A Different Life
by IchatrinaObsessedSleepyGirl
Summary: A different take on Ichabod's past. It still leads to the twenty-first century, but Ichabod just takes a few different paths to get there. What if Ichabod knew of the supernatural, and that he was a Witness before he faced the Horseman? AU
1. Chapter 1

_1758 (8 years old)_

A flash of red caught his eye. He had her now. Waiting for the right moment, he jumped up, arms in the air. "Got you!"

She let out a light scream as she spun round. "Ichabod," she yelled, hand covering her heart. "You scared me!"

With a triumphant laugh, he started down the street at a full run.

"Ichabod! Come back here."

"Catch me if you can," he called over his shoulder. Finding his destination, he bolted around the corner and waited, his heart pounding in his chest. After a few moments, he carefully peeked back out to see if she was close and frowned. Where was she? Just about to give up his hiding place, he suddenly found himself crashing to the ground.

"Caught you."

Her giggles incited a glare up at her as he looked at his cut hands. "Ichabod," she gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She knelt down and used the hem of her dress to wipe the blood from his dirty hands as he huffed out, "You didn't."

Jumping up, he began to walk in the direction of his home just knowing his father would be furious with his ruined clothes. His eyes started to tear at the thought of his father yelling at him, the thought causing him more worry than the painful gravel filled cuts.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to."

"It's not my fault you're not as good at the game as me."

Abruptly spinning around, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not better than me. I just don't feel very well."

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Then, why are you crying?"

Turning and once again continuing his trek home, he wiped angrily at his face, doing his best to wipe away the evidence. "I'm not crying."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Is it because I pushed you down?"

Growing frustrated, he shouted."I'm not crying!"

"I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Her sorrow filled voice caused him to stop as he looked down at his bloody shirt. Sighing, he, too, spoke in a small voice. "My father is going to be mad. I'll surely get a thrashing."

"Oh." Without warning, she grabbed his arm and began dragging him quickly down the street. "Come with me. My mother can fix it. She can fix anything."

As they reached her house, she flung the door open. "Mother! I'm home! Where are you?"

Mrs. van Tassel stepped around the corner wiping her hands with a towel. "Katrina, dear, don't shout in the house."

Still holding fast to his hand, Katrina gestured to him. "You have to help, Ichabod. He's hurt."

With a raise of her eyebrows, Mrs. van Tassel walked forward and took in Ichabod's cut hands and dirty clothes. "Well, Mr. Crane, what has happened to you?"

His eyes glanced at Katrina, then back to Mrs. van Tassel as he answered. "I tripped and fell."

Katrina gave him a bright smile, clearly relieved she wasn't getting into trouble, as her mother began to usher him through another door. "Come with me and we'll get this cleaned right up."

Following her into the kitchen, he took a seat at the table as Katrina reassured him, "Don't worry, Ichabod. Mother can fix anything."

That she could. By the time she was finished, Ichabod's hands and clothes looked good as new. "Thank you, Mrs. van Tassel. I'd have been in a lot of trouble if my father had seen my clothes."

Patting his hand with a smile, she pushed herself back up. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Crane." Turning and grabbing a plate behind her, she set it before them. "Now, how about you and Katrina finish this plate for me while I clean the kitchen?"

With little hesitation, he and Katrina dove right in to the treats. As they ate, he observed Mrs. van Tassel. She looked exactly as he imagined Katrina would when she was older. Flaming red hair. Green eyes. Pale skin. She was honestly the nicest lady he'd ever met. He loved coming here. Snacks were always at the ready and Mrs. van Tassel would teach he and Katrina how to make different meals, something he just knew his father would disapprove of. He always wanted Ichabod studying, stating there would be time to have adventures another day. Ichabod, however, took more than enough adventures. Between he and Katrina, he wasn't sure who got into more trouble. Why just in the last month, he'd gotten three thrashings for returning home filthy. He simply couldn't help it. Katrina had a tendency to drag him all over the place, often resulting in ruined clothing, but the adventures they had were well worth the punishment...after a time.

"It's getting dark out, Ichabod. I'm sure your parents will be looking for you soon."

Nodding his head and standing, he thanked Mrs. van Tassel once more for helping him.

"Of course. Katrina, see Ichabod to the door," she said, before turning back to her work.

"Ok. Come on, Ichabod."

Once again, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him along. As he exited the house, Katrina called after him. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Alright. Goodnight, Katrina."

**Hope you enjoyed the start. Sorry it was so short. They get longer a few chapters in. :)**

**And a note: for the sake of not driving myself crazy with addition and subtraction, Ichabod and Katrina are the same age.**


	2. Chapter 2

Walking down the steps from class, Ichabod suddenly found himself falling forward.

"Watch where you're going, Ichy."

Regaining his senses, he looked up to the boys standing over him and sighed as he picked up his books.

"Leave him alone."

Glancing just behind the boys, he found Katrina standing a few feet way with a scowl on her face.

The boys laughed and looked back to him. "Who's this, Ichy? You need a girl to protect you?"

Katrina rushed over to pull him up, but he shrugged her off with a growl. "I don't need any help."

Moving to pass through the boys blocking his path, they shoved him back and forth until he was once again on the ground.

"I said to leave him alone!"

Their attention left him and turned to Katrina. "What are you going to do about it? Cry?"

Before he knew what had happened, Ichabod was joined on the ground by all three boys. Shocked, he didn't object this time when Katrina pulled him up and went about gathering up his books in a hurried manner before grabbing his hand.

"Come on, Ichabod. Let's go home."

Allowing her to lead him away, he glanced back at the boys in confusion. "How did you do that?" She didn't look back at him, but pulled him along faster prodding him to ask again. "Katrina?"

Still, she didn't answer, nor would she even look at him. Reaching the point where they usually parted ways to go to their separate homes, Katrina released his hand and kept walking.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ichabod."

"Katrina!" he shouted, running after her. "How did you do that? You pushed them down without even touching them!"

Turning abruptly, she quickly threw her hand over his mouth before looking around with wide eyes. "Don't say that! I didn't push them. They-they fell."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he pointed back toward the school. "I saw you, Katrina. You waved your hand at them and they fell. You _made_ them fall."

She looked as if she were on the verge of tears as she shook her head and plead. "Stop saying that! I didn't! I have to go home now."

He called after her as she turned and ran, but she didn't look back.

* * *

Instead of making his way straight home, Ichabod wandered about. He was conflicted about what he'd seen. Katrina must be right. He was mistaken. She couldn't have done it. It simply wasn't possible. Those boys were twice her size and there had been _three_ of them. It must have just seemed as if she'd pushed them. With a sigh, he realized that it was getting late and finally began making his way home. Upon entering his house, he heard his father call to him from the study.

Making his way in, he held his breath as his father spoke. "Ichabod, son, where have you been?"

"I lost track of time, father."

His father rose from his desk and circled around to stand before him with a stern gaze. "What on earth has happened to your shirt?"

Glancing down, Ichabod noticed for the first time the large tear in his sleeve. "Oh, I must have ripped it when I fell down the steps earlier at school."

"You've ruined a perfectly good shirt, Ichabod. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Unable to meet his father's harsh gaze, Ichabod chose to instead look at his shoes. "I'm sorry, father."

"Have you been out with that van Tassel girl again?"

Jerking his gaze to his father at the mention of Katrina, Ichabod shook his head. "No, father."

"You better not have. I've warned you about spending time with her. She's not like us, Ichabod. She's wild. Unlearned."

Ichabod frowned. "Katrina's the smartest girl in class, father."

His father sighed. "I don't mean that she's unintelligent, son, but that she's not proper. Her parents allow her to run through the streets without a care. It's very unbecoming of a young lady."

"She's my only friend," Ichabod replied in a small voice.

"Nonsense! You have plenty of young men in your class that enjoy your company."

Knowing objecting to his father would be unwise, Ichabod nodded his head and spoke in a defeated voice. "Yes, father."

"Good. Now run along and ready yourself for bed."

"Yes, father."

Making his way up the stairs, he hung his head. If his father ever found out just how much time he spent with Katrina, he'd surely get a thrashing.


	3. Chapter 3

Katrina didn't come to school for a whole week and Ichabod became worried that she wasn't coming because she was angry with him. He _had_ accused her of pushing all those boys down. Maybe she no longer wished to be his friend anymore. The thought caused him to worry even more.

Finally unable to take her absence any longer, he found himself standing outside the van Tassel home as he waited for an answer to his knock. The door opened to reveal an elderly woman.

"Can I help you, young sir?"

Not recognizing the woman, Ichabod began to doubt that he had the right door. "I'm a friend of Katrina's. I was worried when she didn't come to school. Is she here?"

He could hear many voices echoing behind the woman causing her distraction. "Yes. She is here, but I'm afraid now is not a good time to visit her."

"Why not?"

A voice from inside called for the woman and she turned back to him. "I'm sorry, young man. I must go."

Without another word, the door shut. Confused, Ichabod stared at it a moment before turning and walking down the steps. He came all this way to see Katrina, only to be sent away. He hated when adults didn't give reasons. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he took off down the alley beside the house. Reaching the kitchen door, he slowly opened it and peeked in. No one was in sight, but he could hear voices from the front of the house. Slipping in, he made his way up the stairs to where he knew Katrina's room to be. The door was slightly cracked and he knocked on it.

A small voice drifted through. "Go away."

"Katrina?" He pushed the door open a little further to find her sitting on the floor in the corner of her room.

She looked up at him with a frown. "Ichabod? What are you doing here?"

Glancing about the room curiously, he answered her. "You haven't been to school all week." He'd never been in a girls room before. It was...odd. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

Her voice sounded small as she whispered. Curiosity overtook him. "Why are you sitting on the floor? Are you ill?"

She shook her head and clutched at a doll in her hand. "No, my mother died."

Ichabod felt his mouth fall open slightly. He'd never known anyone who'd died before. Sliding down the wall to sit beside her, he stared at her. She wasn't crying, which seemed strange to him. If his mother died, he was sure he'd cry.

"I'm sorry. Was she ill?"

Shaking her head, she squeezed the doll in her hands. "No, she was killed."

Ichabod's eyes widened. "Killed?" he asked in a surprised tone.

"A monster did it, an evil monster."

Ichabod furrowed his eyebrows. He supposed she was right. Anyone who would hurt someone as nice as Mrs. van Tassel had to be a monster. "Did they catch the man?"

She shook her head again as she squeezed the doll closer to her. "My father said we have to move away."

Ichabod frowned at her confused. "To another house?"

"No," she whispered. "We're moving to the colonies. Father said he wants to start a new life there."

His heart began to beat faster as he turned more fully toward her. "You can't. If you leave, I-I'll never see you again."

"I told him I didn't want to go, but he said I had to."

"But... But you have school. You can't leave in the middle of the semester."

"We're leaving tomorrow. That's why all the people are here. They're helping father prepare."

He jumped up abruptly. "Tomorrow!? No! You can't go!" He exclaimed.

Katrina looked up at him startled. "I have to."

His mind was busy thinking of a way to stop this, any way to stop it. "We-we could run away. Where no one would ever find us. Then, they couldn't make you leave."

She seemed to be thinking about it, but instead, shook her head. "I can't leave my father alone. He'd be sad."

He felt like falling down and throwing a tantrum. "But _I'll_ be sad if you leave. You're my only friend." She just had to understand.

"I'm sorry, Ichabod."

He was so angry. Clenching his fists, he turned and ran through the door, down the stairs, and out into the bright day. He didn't stop until he was in his own room. Kicking the door closed, he threw himself on his bed and began to weep into his pillow.

"Ichabod? Son, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

He felt his bed shift as his mother sat beside him and begin to rub his back. Sucking in a breath, he spoke into his pillow. "Katrina's moving away."

His mother's hand stilled for a moment. "The van Tassel girl?"

Nodding his head into his pillow, he let out a whimper. "Her father's making her move to the colonies with him because her mother died."

"That must be very hard for her." His mother's voice held sympathy and he could tell it wasn't for him.

"I don't have any other friends! Only her. She's leaving me all alone!"

"Oh, Ichabod," his mother said as she caressed his hair. "I'm sure she's sad to leave her home and all her friends."

He shook his head. "She doesn't have any friends. I'm her only friend and she's mine. She can't leave, mother. She can't! It's not fair!" His words were desperate and forlorn.

Gathering him in her arms, his mother pulled him to her chest and held him for a long time, until he was too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two chapters today since this one's so short**

His mother was shaking his shoulders, but he shrugged her off with a tired moan. "No. There's no school today, mother."

"The ships will be leaving soon. If you so wish, I will take you to the docks to see Katrina once more before she departs."

Abruptly, he sat up, sleep completely gone from his mind. "You'll take me? What about father? He doesn't like Katrina." He just knew his father wouldn't permit this. His voice had started with excitement, but by his last words were dripping with sorrow.

His mother smiled as she pushed back some hair from his face. "He's gone to visit his colleagues this morning." She patted the bed. "Now, hurry and dress, or we'll miss her altogether."

As he jumped from the bed, he pulled on his clothes faster than ever before. Rushing to the door, he thought of something and quickly turned back to his dresser. Grabbing the item, he ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, to find his mother already waiting at the door. "I'm ready!" he yelled, unable to contain himself in his haste.

* * *

The docks were always so interesting to Ichabod, though he had no desire to sail in the water for any reason. It was entirely too vast and, to be honest, a little scary. He couldn't believe Katrina was about to do it.

Searching for her, he became frustrated as he could not see over all the tall people. How he wished he was taller! "This way, Ichabod," he heard his mother say. Glancing up to her, he found her gaze fixed upon something, or someone.

"Do you see her? Do you?" He asked excitedly.

"I do. Right over here."

His mother pulled him along until he saw a flash of red. With a jump, he shouted, "Katrina!"

She spun, looking every which way at his voice, and when her eyes caught his, a bright smile lit her face. "Ichabod!"

He nearly collapsed as she ran and threw her arms around him, her voice small in his ear. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

He chuckled. "Well, I had to come say goodbye to my best friend."

She pulled back from him, a confused smile on her face. "I'm your best friend?"

"Of course you are," he said, as if it were obvious. She'd always been his best friend.

"Katrina, it's time to go."

Her smile dimmed at her father's voice. Before she could move, he remembered the item and reached his hand into his pocket to pull it out.

"Here."

Grabbing her hand, he gently placed the small token in her palm. As she rolled the jewel between her fingers, she looked up at him with a frown.

"But you said this was your favorite belonging. You wouldn't even let me _touch_ it before, even when I begged."

It was true. He wouldn't let anyone touch the small sapphire his grandmother had given him last year. She'd said it was special and he should hold onto it until he found someone special he wished to give it to. With a shy smile, he bowed his head so she couldn't see his eyes. Kicking at the gravel beneath his shoes, he spoke in low voice. "I want you to have it now. So you won't forget me."

He noticed her hand close around the small jewel before she threw her arms around him once more. "I'll never forget you, Ichabod, not ever. I swear."

Her small arms tightened around him at her father's prodding to come before she pulled from him and placed a kiss to his cheek, causing his whole body to heat with a blush. As he watched her walk away and board the ship, he felt his mother's hand came to rest on his shoulder. Once Katrina was out of sight, he turned with a whimper and hugged his mother tightly, the tears once again making their presence known.

**Time jump next**


	5. Chapter 5

**And here's the second one. Sorry they were short. They get longer from here:)**

1771 (13 years later)(21yrs old)

The colonies were vastly different than his home in England. Gone were the clustered buildings of the city. Now, he was faced with vast amounts of trees and valleys. Everything was so different.

When his father had gotten him commissioned, he'd been furious. He was a professor. His plan in life was to impart knowledge, not bullets. What good was he in terms of being a soldier?

Following his fellow comrades into the building, Ichabod released a heavy breath. Wonderful. Some new poor soul to interrogate and torture, a freed slave suspected of treason. He despised observing the tactics used in interrogation, but found himself here none the less. Even if he disagreed with the way his men operated, Ichabod found himself always at the ready to follow orders as it was the task of a good soldier to do so.

"Crane, come forth."

Stepping forward, Ichabod held himself at attention as his superior looked him over.

"You come highly recommended to me, Lieutenant. I'm counting on you to coax our prisoner into confession. Do this and I'm giving you a field commission as Captain."

"As you wish, Sir."

As Tarleton exited the room, Ichabod found himself in charge of gaining the needed information from the man strapped to the chair. Considering the man before him, Ichabod only half listened as one of his men informed him of a local nurse wishing to speak with him. Not taking his eyes from the supposed traitor, he nodded. "Send her in."

Hearing footsteps, he turned and felt his heart stop at the women before him. She was utterly beautiful. She shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away.

She glanced at the prisoner, then back to him. "By what right do you hold this man prisoner in his own home, Sir?" Her words were to the point, leaving no room to be mistaken for politeness.

Gathering his wits about him, as it was fairly obvious he would need them, he stood straighter before answering. "By Royal Assent of the King's Quartering Act, madam."

Her eyes flickered from him, to the man, and then back. "And his wounds? Did he offer... _resistance_?"

Fixing her with a serious look, he answered. "He is charged with treason. A crime punishable by utmost severity. I'm certain both sides can agree on that."

She cut him with a stern glare. "Wrong does not cease to be wrong because the majority agrees."

Ichabod's brow twitched at her boldness. Intrigued by this woman, he continued. "You fight for no country then?"

"I am a Quaker, sir. I fight for the conviction that every life is precious." Her eyes darted once more. "Now, I demand you to allow me to treat his injury."

Taken aback at her demand, Ichabod's mind scrambled for an answer, but was oddly saved by his prisoner's voice. "It's alright, my lady. I'm in good hands."

Ichabod could barely believe the man. Surely he wasn't serious. Glancing to his Captain, he considered his options as she spoke again.

"You're eyes betray you. That inner voice that wants to show him mercy. It's called a conscience."

With every word that fell from her lips, he found himself more intrigued. He could not help but feel as though he knew her. There was something familiar about her, something he couldn't quite place. She'd struck something deep within him. As he watched her turn on her heel and leave with one last glare, he made it his goal to discover just want his mind was telling him.

* * *

The day continued to unnerve him. He must be going mad. Seeing monsters, when he knew them to not be real. Perhaps, he was coming down with something. He made a mental note to visit a physician as soon as possible. Glancing around, he spotted her by the shore. From her stare at the earlier executions, he knew she was upset and he found himself wanting to explain. He hadn't wanted that outcome.

Even from a distance, she looked beautiful. Coming to a stop beside her, she didn't even glance at him. With a sigh, he followed her gaze out over the lake and gathered his courage.

"That was not my doing."

"That boy watched his father die. You think you'll be forgiven just because you didn't... pull the lever?" Her gaze flickered to him for a moment as she asked her question.

The sting of her words hit their intended mark.

"What I see," he answered, unable to stop the overwhelming confusion he felt within himself. "I'm afraid I don't understand anymore."

She turned to him fully. "As I said, that is your conscience, revealing what you refused to see... until now."

Releasing a heavy breath, he looked back out at the water, his mind on how oddly comfortable she was to speak to, despite her straightforwardness. "We're from opposite worlds, you and I." He found her eyes again. "Strangers. And yet I have the oddest sensation..."

"That we've known each other all along," she finished.

Dropping his eye from her intense gaze, he smiled as he considered her words.

"I don't believe in spirits, or destiny."

Her light laugh drew his attention back to her and he found her green eyes sparkling. "You're a terrible liar, Sir. It's quite endearing."

Unable to disagree with her, he found himself wanting to know more of her. He turned and bowed before her.

"Ichabod. Ichabod Crane."

Her eyes widened slightly and he felt as if he were being scrutinized as she looked him over.

"Ichabod Crane? Son of Victor and Martha Crane?"

Slightly alarmed, he straightened and nodded his agreement, unsure how she could possibly know that. "Yes. How do you...?"

She was laughing. Obviously, beauty did not mean sanity in the colonies. Finally gaining control of herself, she spoke. "I can't believe it's you."

Looking about for a moment, he focused back on her with a frown. "I'm sorry. I find myself rather confused."

Her smile widened. "You don't recognize me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he questioned. "Should I?"

"And here I thought you'd never forget your best friend."

His frown disappeared to be replaced by shock for it only took him a moment to come to the realization. "Katrina."

Her smile only grew brighter as he stumbled for words. "I-I don't know what to say."

Before he could speak any more, he heard the approach of horses and found men approaching. Katrina suddenly looked determined as she walked towards him. Reaching up, she whispered in his ear. "Meet me at the infirmary tonight."

And then she was gone, her nearness having overwhelmed his senses.


	6. Chapter 6

Ichabod could not believe the day he was experiencing. Traitors who weren't really traitors. Men who weren't really men. A stubborn, straightforward woman who turned out to be his childhood best friend. What on earth did they put in the water in these colonies? Everything and everyone was going mad, or, at the very least, he was.

Doing his best to keep himself upright, he pushed himself forward and up the steps of the infirmary, praying she hadn't been a hallucination and that she was really here. As he slowly made his way through the door, he noticed her on the far side of the room already making her way toward him.

"Ordo ab chao."

Her hands caught him before he hit the ground. His whole body ached and he felt slightly dizzy as she supported him.

"Ichabod."

She guided him to the floor as he could no longer hold himself up, her hand grasping his own as he leaned into her.

After a moment, she leaned back, her hands coming around to touch his wound. "Let's get you up so I can see."

Pulling him to his feet, she helped him to one of the many cots spread throughout the infirmary. He winced as she pulled the shirt from his body, the blood making the material stick to his wound.

"Ichabod, what happened?" she asked with a gasp.

"I'm not entirely sure."

Quickly running about the room, she gathered supplies before returning to him. "Hold this."

As he did as she asked, she began dabbing around the wound to clear the blood.

His words finally began forming. "Arthur Bernard is dead."

Her eyes shot to his and her hand stilled. "What do you mean?"

He sighed before closing his eyes. "I was ordered to take him out to the woods to finish the job myself. My Captain had ordered me to kill him, but... I couldn't. It was wrong and I could not bring myself to follow my orders. After I had released him, he told me to find you, speak those words, and you would know what to do, but before he could escape, my Captain appeared out of nowhere and shot him. We fought and.."

"And?" She prodded.

He brought a hand to his eyes as he answered. "I must have come down with something. I've been hallucinating all day."

Her hands reached forward and gripped his. "Ichabod, what happened?"

With a sigh, he opened his eyes once more. "Earlier, at the execution, I could have sworn... and then tonight... it's just not possible."

Releasing his hands, she gently cupped his face. "Just tell me."

"You're going to think I'm mad."

She shook her head. "I promise I won't."

Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly spoke in a low voice. "I've heard whispers of a secret war, between men and-"

"Demons," she finished, releasing him and stepping back with a shocked expression. "You saw one."

Frowning, he took in her odd behavior. "How did you-?"

"No," she whispered as she looked down at him in what seemed like disbelief. "It can't be you."

"What can't? Katrina, what on earth is going on here?"

She turned her back to him and looked about as if lost. Trying to stand, he only made it half way up before he collapsed back to the cot in pain.

"Ichabod, don't," she said, turning back to him.

She helped him back into a decent position and began tending his wound once more.

"Katrina?"

Not looking at him, she spoke, her eyes fixed on his bleeding cuts. "You have a gift, the power to bear witness."

Completely and utterly confused, he gazed at her as though she were speaking another language. "To bear witness? To bear witness to what?"

She looked across the room to the other patients, her face and voice filled with what seemed like worry. "Now isn't the time to discuss this."

He felt himself getting frustrated at her lack of a clear explanation. She obviously knew something about him that he didn't and he wanted to know what it was.

"Katrina-"

"Not now." Finally, she met his eyes. "I swear that I will explain it to you later, but this isn't the place to have such a conversation."

Her eyes held a deep concern behind them, so he nodded and let the issue drop. For now.

Once finished cleaning his wound and bandaging him, she dipped a fresh cloth into the basin and reached up to wipe the now dried blood from his face. As he observed her focus on her task, he found himself caught up in her eyes. They held so much in them. What sort of life could she have led to have her hold so much within herself? When her eyes finally met his, she gave a small smile before she nodded to the cot.

"Lie back."

He accepted her demand and did as he was told with her help. Once he was adjusted, she pulled a sheet over him.

"Rest."

As she began to move away, his hand shot out to grasp her arm. "You're not leaving, are you?" He knew he sounded desperate, but he was confused and didn't wish to be alone.

Giving him a small smile of reassurance, she shook her head as she rested her hand on his forehead. A warmth he'd never felt before began to spread through him.

"No, I won't leave you." Her words held truth in them and he allowed himself to relax under her touch.

Suddenly very sleepy, he felt his eyes slip closed. "Promise?"

"I promise, Ichabod. I _will_ keep you safe."

The world went dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Something was tugging at him.

"Ichabod! Wake up."

Opening his eyes, he shot up and winced, slightly unsure of where he was. The pain of his wound was throbbing as he attempted to focus his senses. Glancing to his side, he found Katrina, worry etched over her every feature.

"Hurry, we must leave," she said, glancing toward the door.

"What's happening?"

Her gaze found him as she spoke. "They're coming for you."

Understanding, he stood from the cot with great effort as she reached for something.

"Here, put this on."

She pulled a cloak over him and wasted no time in grabbing his hand and leading him to the back door. It was dark out, save for the occasional lantern hanging from a building. Doing his best to listen for anyone approaching, he found it odd how eerily quiet it was. No birds. No crickets. Nothing. As they made their way between buildings, he would lean against the walls and wait for her signal before moving to follow. Every step was a challenge, his wound sending nearly unbearable shots of pain throughout his body.

"Stop," she whispered suddenly, her hand grasping his arm. He didn't know what she was doing. There was no one in sight.

"Katrina-"

Without warning, something grabbed him from behind and he found himself flung to the ground. Trying to regain himself, he looked up to see his Colonel, or the demon, or whatever it was standing before him.

"Get away from him."

It was Katrina's voice that spoke, but the demon paid her no mind as he advanced toward him. Scrambling back, Ichabod was trying to think of a way out of this situation, when the demon unexpectedly flew through the air and hit the building behind him. Staring in shock, he noticed Katrina come toward him and pull him to his feet as the demon regained his footing as well, growling.

"Witch."

As he advanced toward them again, a line of fire burst between them, cutting him off from them. As the flames continued to grow, Katrina tugged at him and spoke in a hasty voice. "We have to go. Quickly!"

She began to basically drag him behind her. As they made their way up a hill, she continued looking over her shoulder as if the creature might be upon them at any moment. He wasn't sure where she was taking him until he saw the church come into view. Upon entering, Katrina called out for someone.

Within seconds, a man, the Reverend apparently, came rushing forward from the back of the building and helped her lead him further inside. Once they had him set down, Katrina turned to the man and began conversing with him in a hushed voice.

"What has happened?"

"We were attacked. A shape shifter."

They continued on until Ichabod could stand it no longer. "What is happening here!? I demand an answer!"

His raised voice finally garnered their attention. With great concern etched over her every feature, Katrina came back and laid her hand over his arm.

"Ichabod, you need to rest."

Jerking away from her, he unsteadily stumbled to his feet and moved back. "Don't! Don't touch me. That thing back there. It called you a witch."

Her hands reached toward him, but he took yet another step back, unwilling to allow her contact.

"Ichabod-"

"I want the truth, Katrina."

With a sigh, she gestured to the bench. "Alright. If you will please just sit back down, I will relay to you all you need to know."

The Reverend stepped forward as if to protest, but Katrina held her hand up to him, never once taking her eyes from his. "Ichabod. Sit."

Looking between the two, he opted to sit across from them rather than beside, wanting to keep his distance.

"Thank you." Finally taking her gaze from him, she turned to the Reverend. "Give us a moment."

"Katrina, this is not a good idea. You can't-"

"Do not begin to tell me what I can and cannot do, Alfred!"

Taken aback at her stern voice, the man nodded and moved to the back of the church. With a deep breath, Katrina turned back to him and, for a moment, she simply stood there, staring at him.

"Is it alright if I sit with you?" At his doubtful look, she smiled. "If I wished you harm, I could have left you to the demon."

That was true. Acquiescing with a nod, she came forward and rested beside him. Her gaze remained on her hands as she spoke. "I imagine you have many questions."

"Only a few thousand." Earning a laugh from her, he continued. "Are you a witch?"

"Yes, I am."

He wasn't exactly sure what to make of it. Witches. Demons. Things were quickly beginning to spiral out of his control and he didn't like it one bit. His mind began to shoot in all sorts of directions and caught on to a memory. "You did push them down." Her look of confusion pushed him forward. "When we were children. Those boys that were bullying me." A thoughtful expression took over her face. "You probably don't remember." It was silly to even bring up considering what he'd just witnessed.

She regarded him for a moment before smiling. "You're not the only one who can remember things, Ichabod Crane. And you're right. I pushed them, though, I hadn't meant to. I only wished for them to leave you alone. I hated how they always hurt you."

He could see her thinking about that day. As she spoke, he couldn't help but stare at her. Her bonnet was gone, lost in the fight and her hair was half hazardly hanging down around her neck. It was a darker red than when she was a girl, and a stark contrast to her pale white skin. But it fit her perfectly as it accentuated her green eyes and made them stand out all the more. His eyes finally worked their way to her lips and he found himself mesmerized as they moved with her words. She was absolutely the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

"Ichabod?"

Startled our of his ponderings, his eyes met hers. "Yes?"

She was smiling at him. "Are you alright? You seemed lost in thought."

Feeling a blush creeping upon him, he tore his eyes from hers, suddenly very warm. "I was just-" His throat closed off, so he cleared it. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

Glancing at her, he could see her smile widening with every second he delayed an answer. Releasing a light chuckle, he answered truthfully. "I'm not even sure anymore."

"You know, you can still tell me anything."

For some reason, he believed her, which was strange. His entire world was turned upside down today and somehow his foremost thought was about a beautiful woman. Maybe he had lost a little too much blood.

"I thought about you." At her raised eyebrows, he continued. "After you left England. I thought about you all the time. Perhaps it was because you were the only person who would tolerate my obnoxious nature." They both chuckled. "Every Sunday, I'd carry flowers to your mother's grave and I'd sit there for hours talking to her. It was the place I felt closest to you. I thought, perhaps, you'd want me to, to take care of her, keep her company." Suddenly realizing just what he was saying and how it made him sound, he glanced at her and saw that she was frowning at him. He did his best to think of a way to backtrack. "Don't pay me any mind. I was an odd child. I mean, what sort of eight year old talks to graves. No wonder I'm in the predicament I now find myself in."

Attempting to laugh off the tension, he felt her hand on his and brought his eyes back to hers, finding her with a warm smile as she spoke. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you, Ichabod."

Offering her a small smile, he looked down at their entwined fingers. They fit perfectly together.

They're moment, however, was broken by the Reverend returning.

"Katrina."

Pulling her hand from his, she stood and approached the man. Ichabod was thankful for the distance between them. He'd, of course, noticed women before, courted quite a few as well, but none had ever made him feel the way he did in this moment. Her nearness nearly drove him mad and he could still smell her scent even though she had moved away.

"We should get you somewhere to rest," she said, returning. "Alfred has offered up the small room in the back for you."

He frowned. "But...I have questions."

"And I will answer them, but it'll be light out soon and you should rest."

Wanting to protest, but somehow knowing it would do little good, he nodded as she reached down and helped him up. "I am quite tired."

The room was small, but the bed surely did look welcoming. As Katrina helped him lie down, she gently lifted his shirt. "I suppose now that you know the truth, I can better help you."

At his look of confusion, she laid her hand flat against his wound. Her touch brought prickles to his skin, but within seconds, he felt an odd sensation begin to creep over him. When she removed her hand from him, he sat up abruptly and glanced at the place the wound had been. It was as if he had never been hurt at all. Not even the slightest scar was left.

"Amazing," he muttered under his breath.

"You're welcome."

Directing his gaze at her, he gave her a broad smile. "Thank you, Katrina. You're..." She was close. Very close. "You're perfect."

A smile crept upon her face as her gaze fell to her hands. "I should be going. It's late."

Clearing his throat, he, too, looked to his hands. "Yes, of course."

She backed away from him towards the door. "If you need anything, you only need ask it of Alfred. He'll gladly tend to any need you may have. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow."

"And to answer my questions?"

Chuckling, she nodded. "Yes, Ichabod, I will answer any and all of your questions."

And with one last smile, she was gone. Falling back against the bed, Ichabod stared at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts drifted through his mind as his eyes grew heavy. Somehow, he knew that his life was forever changed, all due to a certain red headed woman with a knack for getting him out of trouble. With a smile upon his face, he drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a moment upon waking for Ichabod to discern where he was. If it weren't for his surroundings, he would have sworn the night before had been a dream. A very odd, very vivid dream.

After rising and gaining his bearings, he ventured into the main part of the church and looked about. It seemed empty as he made to exit the building.

"Mr. Crane?"

Startled at the sudden voice, he turned and found the Reverend on the opposite side of the room watching him with steady eyes. "You shouldn't venture out. Katrina left strict instructions for you to remain unseen."

"So, Katrina is my keeper, now, is she?" he asked, a little too hotly.

The Reverend gave a sigh. "Trust me son, you do not want to face her wrath. She can be very ill tempered."

Raising his eyebrows, Ichabod looked back toward the doors. He hated being inside almost as much as he hated being told what to do.

"Very well."

With a nod, the Reverend moved to the back of the church. As soon as he was out of sight, Ichabod glanced about once more before slipping out the door at a quick pace. He silently promised he would not venture far, but he needed fresh air and a quiet place to clear his mind.

Finding the cemetery to the side of the church, he wandered through it, every name he passed etching itself into his memory. It wasn't a very large cemetery. The shroud of trees that surrounded it cast a sort of alluring look about it.

Coming to an old oak tree, he rested himself beneath it and leaned his head back, allowing his eyes to fall closed as he listened to the sounds of nature. The birds whistling above him gave a pleasant melody that lulled him. As the world around him continued on, he allowed his mind to venture to his home. What would his father think of him now?

Ichabod knew. He'd call him a traitor. He would do everything he could to cover the shame his only son had brought upon the name of Crane. And his mother, his dear mother who always threw herself between them, would be devastated.

_"Promise me you'll be safe."_

_Sighing, he cast a glance at her worried face. "Mother," he said, taking her hand in his own. "You shouldn't worry so."_

_Her worried face did not lessen in the least. "You're leaving for a whole new land. There's danger in the voyage and what if the health of the colonies is not well? You could perish before you even reach the real danger."_

_"There's danger everywhere. Sooner or later death comes for us all, but you should know by now that it will take a great deal to get rid of me. I'm much too stubborn."_

_She chuckled. "A trait of your father's."_

_Pulling her into a hug, he smiled. "We'll see each other again soon enough."_

Thoughts and memories consumed him, drawing him into a dark place in his mind. What if he'd made a mistake? He'd just forsaken his entire life, his future, his family, all at the words of a complete stranger...and Katrina. He couldn't help but be overwhelmed at seeing her again, not to mention the revelation that she was a witch. She seemed so different now. What if she wasn't who she said she was?

No. She was Katrina, his childhood best friend. Doubt began to pull at him. That is, until a shove against his shoulder brought him back to the present causing him to brace himself with his hand to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

Looking up, he found a very upset Katrina.

With wide eyes, he answered. "I needed some air."

She released a disbelieving breath. "Air? You needed air!? Oh, well that makes everything better, doesn't it? By all means, you take in all the air you like. I'm sure the demon that's hunting you will just look the other way when he finds you here." She threw her hands up. "He'll understand your need for _air_."

Rolling his eyes at her dramatic spout, he propped himself back against the tree. "You're overreacting." He wished he could take it back the moment he said it as a burst of flame lit the limb lying next to him. "What on earth?" he said, jumping up and looking from the flaming limb to Katrina. "Did you do that?"

With a harsh glare, she began walking back toward the church.

Giving one last glance to the limb, he started after her, gently grabbing her arm when he reached her. "Katrina-"

With a jerk of her arm, she whirled on him so quickly he had to support himself with her waist so as not to collapse over her. "Do you have any idea how worried I was when I arrived and Alfred didn't know where you were?"

He hadn't thought about her worrying as no one other than his mother had worried over him in a very long time. It was not something he was accustomed to, but he could see in her face that she was in fact very upset with worry. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to worry you."

She released a shaky breath as she closed her eyes and brought a hand to her eyes. "It's alright. You're right. I overreacted."

He was acutely aware of how close they were. Lifting his hand up, he pushed her fallen curl behind her ear, his eyes focused intently on her mouth.

When her eyes opened and found his, she softly spoke. "Just promise me you won't do it again."

"I promise," he assured with a small smile.

She nodded and he stiffened as she rested her forehead against his shoulder. Uncertainly, he wrapped his arms around her, only slightly afraid she'd hear his heart beating wildly beneath his chest. The smell of her hair was that of fresh flowers, the scent overwhelming his senses.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

He smiled at her sorrowful words and tightened his arms around her. No, he thought, his doubt evaporating. Katrina was good. Why else would she worry so after him? "It's not your fault. Besides, I'm not entirely sure what _has_ happened to me in the first place."

He felt an emptiness fill him when she pulled back. "I can tell you."

Reaching down, she grabbed his hand and led him back to the tree where she pulled him down to sit beside her. She then proceeded to explain the details of the war and what her coven was involved in. When she revealed her assumption that he was the First Witness, he jumped up and began protesting profusely. However, with every excuse he gave for not being a Witness, she matched him with a reason that he was.

"Katrina, this is absurd. I'm a professor, not a-a"

"Witness?" she finished with a small smile.

Looking out over the graveyard, he sighed. "This is impossible."

She drew his attention back by picking up a nearby leaf and raising her brow in question. "Impossible?"

The leaf slowly floated up to hover right in front of him. Disbelief filled him as he reached out a hand to allow it to settle in his palm. "I'm hallucinating," he attempted to reason. The leaf suddenly caught fire and he dropped it abruptly before jerking his eyes to hers. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"Hallucinations don't burn you." Standing, she gently took his throbbing hand in hers. "Nor do they heal you."

Once again, he felt an odd warmth spread through him. Glancing at his hand, he found the mark and sting from the burn gone. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, he closed his eyes before sucking in a deep breath and releasing it. "Of all the people in the world, why me?"

She squeezed his healed hand. "Because you are a good man, Ichabod Crane."

Opening his eyes, he brought his hand up to touch her face. Her deep green eyes were looking at him with such faith. The pull he felt toward her was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Unable to contain his words, he spoke in a low voice. "And you're beautiful."

He could see her breathing pick up pace as her eyes fell to his mouth. It didn't take him but a moment to close the distance between them. As the seconds ticked by, he moved even closer to her, his hands falling to her neck and caressing its slender form. Their kiss was hesitant and soft, the exact opposite of the feeling his heart was giving him. He thought the quick beats might burst through his chest at any moment.

Pulling back slightly, he leaned his forehead against hers and smiled.

"I've thought about doing that for a very long time. What it would be like to see you again. What you would look like, sound like..." His fingers tangled in the curls about her neck. "Feel like." When she didn't speak, he pulled back even further to find tears streaming down her face. Feeling slightly panicked that he'd done something wrong, his eyes darted over her features. "Katrina?"

Her eyes opened and he saw a deep torment in them. "I'm sorry. I-I have to go. You should return inside the church. Alfred will keep you safe."

He was beyond confused. She tried to pull from him to walk away, but he held her fast. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head before sucking in a shaky breath, her eyes looking everywhere but him. "No. I just... have things to take care of." She glanced toward town. "The infirmary. I have to go to the infirmary."

She was running from him. He knew it, but he released her anyway.

"I'll come by later to check on you."

Looking down to his boots, he nodded, completely and utterly confused. "Alright."

Before he got the word out of his mouth, she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

She didn't return that evening, nor the next morning. His entire day had been spent in the presence of Alfred, who, to Ichabod's mild delight, was rather pleasant company. His worry over Katrina's lack of return, however, put a damper on his mood. Surely, she wasn't too furious with him. Perhaps, he shouldn't have been so quick to kiss her. His father had always lectured him over his overly emotional behavior. On the other hand, the confusion he felt only deepened at the memory of her returning his kiss. Her response had been hesitant at first, but it hadn't taken her but a moment to reciprocate. The feel of her soft lips gently gliding over his was forever burned into his memory.

Finally, after hours upon hours of memorizing every nook and cranny of the old church, Alfred, the only person he'd spoken to all day, informed him that Katrina had sent word to escort him to the tunnels. That's where he was currently standing; in a dark tunnel, lit by torch and moonlight. The effect was quite eerie.

Others, he could only assume were members of Katrina's coven, moved about. They seemed to be conversing over a serious topic. No doubt, he was the highlight. Oddly, they all had hoods pulled up, so he couldn't tell who was who, or even if they were men or women. Beginning to get frustrated with being ignored, he suddenly spotted her. She'd been there all along.

As she pulled back her hood, he found himself suddenly paralyzed. It wasn't just her beauty that overwhelmed him, but her obvious sense of authority. Power flowed off of her in waves as she spoke with the other hooded figures.

Without warning, they all turned to look at him. So, they were conversing about him after all. Shuffling his feet uncomfortably under their stares, he glanced to Katrina. Her eyes met his for a moment and he felt the air seep from his lungs. There were so many emotions dancing behind her green eyes. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of them. The moment passed, though, as she turned to the figure to her left and spoke. After a moment, the person she had spoken to moved toward him, and once close, removed their hood to reveal Alfred.

"It's almost over, Mr. Crane."

Completely confused, Ichabod looked about. "What is? What am I doing down here? Who are all of these people?"

His frustrations were spewing out of him uncontrollably.

"We are having a meeting and we couldn't just leave the Witness alone and unprotected. I offered to stay at the church with you, but Katrina demanded you be here." The man turned to him. "She's very protective of you. It's rather odd."

Calming slightly at the man's admission, Ichabod frowned as he directed his attention back to gazing at Katrina.

"It's odd that she cares for someone?"

Alfred sighed. "She's a very private woman. I consider her to be a dear friend and yet I know very little of her personally. She doesn't take to people easily."

Ichabod found that hard to believe. She'd been a very caring girl, a little too caring.

_"You killed it!"_

_"It was just a butterfly, Katrina."_

_She knelt down and picked up the small butterfly to hold in her palm._

_"You're not going to cry, are you?" He couldn't see her eyes, but judging from her slumped shoulders and heavy breathing, he assumed that was exactly what she was doing._

_"No." Her small voice said otherwise._

_"Come on, Katrina."_

_She spun to face him, her eyes full of fury and unshed tears. "Why did you do it? It wasn't bothering you!"_

_He didn't really have an answer. It had flown into his path and he'd swung at it without considering his friend might be upset. It was just a butterfly. They were everywhere. "I don't know." Shuffling his feet, he peeked a glance at her to see her still cradling the deceased insect. "I'm sorry. I swear I'll never kill another butterfly for as long as I live."_

_Her teary green eyes caught his and she nodded before giving her next order. "We have to bury it."_

_Using all of the willpower his eight year old body had, he contained his moan of protest. "Alright." Turning to kneel in the dirt, he began digging with his hands while mumbling under his breath. "Bloody bug."_

_"What?"_

_"Nothing."_

She had cared about everything.

Watching her now, he saw very little of that girl he'd known so long ago. Maybe Alfred was right. "Who is Katrina exactly? She seems to be doing most of the speaking."

"She's our leader."

Surprised, Ichabod looked from Katrina, to the Reverend, then back to Katrina. "Your leader?"

"I thought you were aware. She's very wise for her years and that's to say nothing of her power. I've never met anyone as powerful as she. Her bloodline has always been filled with great leaders."

Before he could speak again, the hooded figures began to exit the tunnels.

"Come."

Following Alfred, Ichabod soon found himself a mere foot from her. He was completely mesmerized as she spoke with Alfred.

"We can take Ichabod to Commander Washington."

The mention of his name brought him back to the conversation at hand. With raised eyebrows, he questioned. "To Commander Washington? Commander... George Washington?"

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments, slight coldness in her features, before turning back to address Alfred. "We'll leave at first light. Make sure he is well disguised. We don't want to be forced into a fight because he's recognized."

"Of course." She was now ignoring him as Alfred turned to him. "Well, Mr. Crane, we best get you back. You'll need your rest for the long journey tomorrow."

Gritting his teeth, he stood stone still as Alfred began to move away.

"Mr. Crane?" Alfred called.

He had no intention of moving until she looked at him. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."

Still avoiding his gaze, she spoke. "We'll talk tomorrow."

She began to move away toward Alfred, but he quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. "No. You're going to tell me, now. I'm not some puppet for you to direct as you will and I'm most certainly not going on some journey when I don't even know the destination."

"I'll be waiting outside," Alfred informed, before he disappeared from sight.

With a surprising amount of annoyance on her face, Katrina turned to face him. "Why are you being so difficult? I'm trying to help you."

Dropping her hand, he huffed. "Help me? How Katrina? By avoiding me? You tell me I'm some important person in the coming war that could end the world and then you disappear. And now I'm to simply accept whatever you've ordered others to do to me?"

Her eyes were firmly planted over his shoulder. "This isn't the time to discuss this."

"Then when? After you've handed me over to the Commander to use as he wishes?" He paused as he allowed a realization to sink into him. "I'm just some chest piece, aren't I?" he whispered. "Someone for you to use in your cause." She still wouldn't meet his eyes and he knew he had his answer. "You don't care about me at all. You simply protect me because you need me."

Without bothering to wait for a response, he exited the tunnel to find Alfred, more than ready to put this day behind him.

As he reached the man, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist.

"I'll bring Ichabod back, Alfred. You go on ahead." Her voice was low, filled with defeat.

The man looked between them oddly for a moment before nodding his assent and departing.

Her hand pulled at him, but he refused to move. "Ichabod." He didn't want to look at her, he was far too angry. "Please."

Closing his eyes for a moment before turning back to her, he finally met her gaze and found her with a sorrowful expression. "I did not come back yesterday because I was held up by my father. I'm not avoiding you, I'm simply doing what I must to ensure everyone's safety." She sighed as she held her free hand out as if indicating a presence. "I have a responsibility to an entire coven. It is my duty to keep a clear mind and guide them because we are the soldiers in the coming war between good and evil. And you, Ichabod, along with the Second Witness, will be our leader." Her eyes fell to their tangled hands. "To have us conflicted with trivial things as this is irresponsible."

He could stand no more. "Irresponsible? It's irresponsible for me to care for you? Even leaders need love, Katrina."

Her eyes darted to his, wide with surprise. "Love? Ichabod..."

He hadn't meant to imply that he loved her, though he was having a hard time convincing himself that he didn't, despite the fact that they'd only just found each other again mere days before. Quickly attempting to recover, he continued. "I meant in general. Everyone needs to be loved. You can't use your power as an excuse, Katrina. You have to allow yourself to give and receive love."

She looked away from him. "Love is not a luxury I have." He watched her glance about and he thought she looked like a small lost girl. "When I arrived here as a child, my father was quick to secure our future. I've been engaged to be married since I was ten."

All the air left him as well as what he could only assume was his sanity. Unthreading his fingers from hers, he took a step back causing her gaze to return to his.

"You're getting married? When?"

"As soon as he returns from England. He's there on business and upon his return, we are to be wed."

Deep breaths. He had to remind himself to take them.

After a moment of silence, she sighed. "We should get you back to the church."

Turning on his heel, he began walking in said direction.

"Ichabod-"

"No!" Spinning back around, he looked at her, defeated. "No, you're right. Now isn't the time to discuss this."

The rest of their walk back to the church was spent in silence. He never thought he'd be ready to put distance between he and Katrina, but at this moment he wanted to be as far from her as possible. Stopping before the steps, he looked up at the church.

"It appears we've made it safely. I'll suppose I'll see you in the morning so you can hand me off to someone else to be burdened with."

Without bothering to glance at her reaction, he started up the steps.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning found Ichabod very irritable. Well, more irritable than usual. He'd slept little the previous night only to have Alfred awaken him before it was even light out.

Presently, he was sitting against a tree, brooding, as they waited for Katrina's arrival. Alfred was standing off to the side thankfully leaving him be. He felt slightly guilty for berating the man. Every time he opened his mouth, it seemed a snide remark would make its way out. His mood simply could not be helped at this point. It was ridiculous, he knew, but Katrina had always been some sort of dream to him. After she'd departed from England, he'd tried to make other friends, find a new place in the world, but his classmates would have little to do with him.

They'd all disliked him from the very beginning, what with his father being a respected professor. The absurd idea they all held about him was that he thought himself better and smarter than they, granted with his eidetic memory, he considered the latter to be true, but he desperately tried to deflate that idea. His attempts, however, never reached fruition. Especially considering the fact that his father often paid visits to his school to complain about some rule or another.

Katrina was the only person who'd ever bothered with him. Her friendship only cemented his classmates dislike for him as Katrina was the only other person in school more intensely disliked than he simply because she wouldn't go along with their antics. Her constant need to protect everyone and everything had made her an easy target for bullying. He supposed that he became even more caught in the crosshairs and, in turn, became like a leper to them.

Most of his days were spent in his room studying, much to his father's approval. His mother would try to coax him out, but he would rarely agree.

In his teen years, he'd discovered girls weren't your buddies, not that he had had any to begin with. He'd often wondered what Katrina would be like if she were with him. If her hair and clothes would have become more important than their friendship. Imagining her wearing the sorts of clothes the other young ladies wore had often caused a blush to form over his features as he'd imagined she would be even more beautiful than they.

His first kiss had been when he was sixteen. Clara Sanders. She had been a pretty enough girl. Dark hair and light eyes. His mind had fumbled all over the place as he attempted to kiss her right. The whole experience had been rather awkward.

Other kisses had come and gone, and Katrina had eventually become a distant memory as his studies became more important.

But today, knowing her again. Every longing feeling he'd had rushed back into him. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Hope had filled him and that kiss they'd shared had fulfilled almost every dream he'd ever had. That is, until her confession had brought them all crashing to the ground. She was engaged, belonged to someone else. It was unimaginable for him. He'd always thought of her as his.

_"Ichabod?_

_His gaze jerked up to find Katrina standing in front of him. _

_Utterly horrified that she'd caught him crying, he wiped at his face. "What are you doing here?"_

_Her small body dropped down next to his. "I was coming to see if you wanted to play."_

_He kicked at a small lizard that ran across the step. "I don't."_

_"Ok." _

_He rolled his eyes at the sadness in her voice. "I don't feel like playing, Katrina."_

_A noise came from behind his door. "Ichabod! Where are you? Get back here this instant! I'm not done speaking with you!"_

_Quickly, he reached for Katrina's hand, pulling her down the steps and into the alley beside his house. _

_The front door to his house opened and he peeked to see his father step out, look around, then return back inside. _

_Releasing a relieved breath, he plopped to the ground. _

_"Is your father mad at you again?"_

_Not looking at her, he nodded. "He's always mad at me."_

_She sat beside him. "I'm sorry. I wish he would be nicer to you. I hate it when you're upset. It makes me sad."_

_Glancing at her, he smiled. "You want to go play?"_

_A bright smile lit her face as she jumped up and grabbed his hand. "Yes!"_

"Katrina. Good."

Alfred's voice brought him back to the present.

Glancing up, he saw her approach. How he wished she would just once appear undesirable to him. This morning even her beauty irritated him.

She paused as she gazed at the Reverend.

"Is everything alright, Alfred?"

"Yes, yes everything's fine." The man was clearly lying. Ichabod knew he had him on edge. "Shall we, Mr. Crane?"

Glaring, he tilted his head. "Do I have a choice?"

The man look pleadingly at Katrina.

Fixing him with a pointed look, she spoke. "If you'd rather sit there and wait for a demon to come along and claim you, then be my guest."

She took off in the direction he assumed they were heading, while nodding for Alfred to follow her.

Rolling his eyes, he stood and began to follow.

They travelled for hours without speaking. It was rather difficult for Ichabod as he quite enjoyed speaking. Now, more than ever, he regretted his choice to be so rude toward the Reverend. The man seemed to have a vast knowledge from which Ichabod could have picked at. Instead, he found his eyes fixed on her back as she walked. She had yet to acknowledge him again since threatening to leave him, not even to glance back to see if he was, in fact, following them.

The journey took two days and they rested very little, but finally, they reached their destination. Upon meeting Commander Washington, Ichabod found himself impressed. Washington was a rather tall man and Ichabod thought him to be extremely interesting. He enjoyed having someone that was intelligent enough to converse with him on certain issues, something he'd been lacking as of late since leaving England.

Once they were all acquainted, Ichabod was shown to his tent.

He was aware that the time for Katrina and Alfred to leave was fast approaching and he was unaware when he'd see her again, or if he even would.

Stepping outside, he found Alfred speaking with a few soldiers.

Trying to think of a way to ask about her whereabouts without seeming overly eager to find her, he was saved when Alfred spoke before he could, not even glancing at him.

"She's down by the stream."

Nodding his thanks, Ichabod began in that direction.

When he found her at the water's edge, he took a deep breath before settling beside her.

They remained silent for quite some time before he finally choked down his pride.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't look at him as she slightly shook her head. "There's no need to apologize."

Unable to help himself, he reached for her hand. "Yes, there is."

Finding it easier to look at her hand in his than her eyes, he distracted himself by running his fingers along hers. "I just found you again and I don't want to lose you as my friend."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her observing their hands as well. "You won't. You'll always be my friend, Ichabod. My _best_ friend."

Smiling, he posed a question. "Have I thanked you yet?"

"For what?"

Finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers, he took in her curious expression. "For saving me."

She shrugged her shoulders. "The demon wasn't that terrible."

"That's not what I meant." At her look of confusion, he continued, "You saved me from an ordinary existence. I was going through the motions, living the life that was set before me. You gave me the opportunity to choose my own path. So, thank you. You've forever changed my life."

She looked back out over the water. "I'm glad. I was afraid you would resent me, maybe even hate me for forcing you on this path."

"I could never hate you, Katrina." After a moment, he spoke again. "When will I see you again?"

"I'm not sure. The Commander will keep you very busy and I have much to attend to in the coming months."

"Yes, your wedding," he whispered lowly.

She shook her head. "It's not a choice I made for myself, but one that was made for me. If I had any choice in the matter, I'd..."

Her words fell away with a sigh.

Not really wanting to know, but asking anyway, "Is he a good man?"

Her eyes came back to his, seemingly considering him for a moment. "He is. While, I don't know much of him personally, in the few conversations I've had with him, he seems to be anyway. He likes to show his wealth and brag quite a bit, but... I suppose I would call him a good man."

"Good, I'd hate to have to end him for being cruel to you."

A small smile crept into her features as she lightly squeezed his hand. "Always my protector."

He chuckled. "As I recall, I do believe it was you that did all the protecting. Though, in my defense, you did have an unfair advantage."

Her hair fell into her view as she laughed. "A minor detail."

Reaching up, he tucked it back behind her ear. "I feel safe when I'm with you, and happy. I've not experienced much happiness in my life that didn't include you. You made my childhood bearable."

He wanted to kiss her again. It was a deep want that he knew he could not have.

Instead, he settled for leaning forward, placing his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent, allowing it to make a home in his memory. "I don't want to be parted from you again."

For a moment, he thought he might have overstepped again, but then her hand slid up to hold his face in place, her lips ghosting across his cheek. "This won't be the last time we see each other, Ichabod. I promise."

It was a promise he intended to see her keep.


	11. Chapter 11

1773 (23years old) (Little over a year later)

Ichabod found himself becoming more and more accustomed to this new world he found himself in. In his time in this new land, he had made many new acquaintances and learned much involving the colonies as well as the underlying battle that raged in its midst.

A year had passed by quickly since his decision to leave all he knew behind and embrace the unknown.

His life over the last year had mostly involved the constant task of traveling and carrying messages for the Commander, most recently with his new partner, Abraham Van Brunt.

Abraham was an amicable enough man. Highly intelligent and _extremely _wealthy. The man was heir to quite the fortune, his family being one of the most prestigious in the colonies. Often Ichabod got the sense that Abraham was only here for show, but found himself calling him friend anyway. It was hard not to with the way he was so generous in his ways, another reason Ichabod thought he was here for show. It wasn't hard to see Abraham liked the attention of being known in such a light. They didn't speak much of their personal lives, as Ichabod wasn't one to freely share himself with others. They, instead, decided, well, he did anyway, to focus on their work.

His did have a certain trust in his new friend that was established quite solidly when he had pulled him to safety from a stray bullet a month earlier, a mishap that had nearly cost him his life and forever indebted him to the man. He was glad Abraham was, at the very least, reliable.

To his disappointment, he hadn't seen Katrina again since the day she left him with the Commander. Often, he wondered about her, if she was happy in her new life. He knew she must be married by now. With that thought, others would often follow, other thoughts he could barely bring himself not to fall apart at.

If she was married, it was possible that she was now with child. The thought both tormented him and brought him joy at the same time. Katrina swollen with child was something he'd love to see.

He could nearly imagine a beautiful girl with Katrina's hair and his eyes running around a house as he chased after her. He'd dreamed of it so many times. The sweetness of the dream, however, would more often than not turn nightmarish with images of another faceless man being there with them. A man holding the small girl that called him father. He would tuck the girl in at night and tell her wild stories. Then, he would see the man holding Katrina, making love to her, leading Ichabod to wake up in a cold sweat and do his best to shove the horrid thoughts from his mind.

Today, though, was the day he both dreaded and looked forward to. He was currently walking down the streets of Sleepy Hollow. His presence in the town being due to the fact that the Commander was here for a meeting, and he and a few others had accompanied him. Once the meeting was adjourned though, he planned to seek Katrina out as soon as possible. The joy would be in seeing her, the dread in meeting her husband and, perhaps, even her child

"I simply cannot wait for you to meet her, Ichabod."

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he glanced to his friend, who was smiling as if he were running for some sort of political office as he waved and nodded to each and every passerby.

"Meet who?"

Abraham fixed him with an incredulous look. "Why, my fiancé, of course!"

With a frown, Ichabod glanced down the street. "She lives here? In Sleepy Hollow?"

"Yes. I'm sure I've mentioned that. She and her parents moved here some time ago."

No. He hadn't. The only thing he knew about this mysterious fiancé of Abraham's was that she was beautiful. That was it. In the two months he'd known Abraham, the man had only bragged of her great beauty, how he would be the most begrudged man in all the colonies for gaining such a wife as she. He had also admitted at one point that she was of a considerably lower class than he, the arrangement having been struck between his father and hers over a card game one evening. Abraham had dreaded marrying a woman of such lower class, that is, until he'd laid eyes on her. It would seem the woman was lovely enough to overlook the fact of her lack of social standing.

Ichabod tended to change the subject when Abraham began down these long torrents of bragging, which led to very few personal details being shared between them as Abraham bragged _often_. Add to it the fact that Ichabod tended to think of his lack of a romantic life in those moments, he often found himself rather uninterested in discussing those of others.

"Of course," he answered, tiredly. "It simply slipped my mind."

Abraham slapped him on the back. "And here I was under the impression that you remembered everything."

Giving a tight smile, Ichabod shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I'm slipping."

"Yes, well-Oh! I see someone I simply must speak with. A supporter of the war, albeit a poor one, but even the less fortunate have something to contribute in body count. You go on ahead, Ichabod. I'll be there momentarily."

With a nod and a slight roll of his eyes, he entered the town hall and looked about until he found the Commander.

"Ah, Crane," the Commander said, holding out his hand for a shake. "Come, let me introduce you to a few important people to the cause."

Ichabod accepted the man's extended hand. "Of course, Commander."

As they began moving about the room, he was introduced to many influential members of the town as well as a few who were savvy to the tactics of war. He was always grateful when he found someone with the ability to converse on an intellectually stimulating level.

When they came to the next group of people, Ichabod found himself surprised to find Katrina there. Her back was too him, but she was unmistakable.

It was the Commander that spoke to her first and he felt his heart pick up pace at the knowledge that he was in her presence.

"Ms. van Tassel."

She had a smile on her face as she turned, but, to his confusion, it faded when her eyes met his.

"Commander Washington," she said, seemingly regaining herself. "How wonderful to see you again."

"Thank you, madam. How are you?"

Her jaw flexed for a moment before she answered. "Oh, I'm wonderful, and you?"

The Commander gave a nod. "Tired, but glad to be here amongst friends once more."

"Ah, Commander. Ichabod."

Katrina visibly flinched at Abraham's voice, which only furthered his confusion. That confusion was only deepened as Abraham stopped at Katrina's side with a proud smile on his face, his hand sliding along her arm.

"I see you've met my fiancé."

If it were possible, he was sure all the blood had drained from his face.

Abraham was Katrina's fiancé.

There was simply no way this wasn't a dream. A very bad, very vivid, dream.

As he found himself too far at a loss for words, he was grateful when the Commander gave reply. "Yes, you're a very lucky man, Abraham. She is very beautiful."

Abraham gave a proud smile. "Thank you, Commander."

Ichabod nodded and spoke through gritted teeth. "Yes, she's lovely."

Her gaze glanced to his boots for a moment, but quickly returned to the Commander.

"Ah, drinks," Abraham said happily. "I shall fetch us some."

The Commander excused himself to speak with someone else as Abraham departed, leaving Ichabod alone with Katrina, who was deftly avoiding his gaze.

He was desperately attempting to sort through his thoughts.

"Katr-"

"Here you are, Ichabod."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he turned to Abraham, who was holding out a drink.

"Thank you."

As Abraham resumed his place at Katrina's side, he once again smiled broadly. "I'm glad that you're finally able to meet Katrina. I've told her all about you in my letters."

Ichabod's brow shot up as he stared at her, but her eyes were firmly focused over his shoulder. "Have you?"

"Yes, yes," Abraham said with a nod. "I believe she's quite enjoyed the stories of our adventures, especially the one where I saved your life."

Forcing a light chuckle, Ichabod smiled. "An event I feel I shall never live down, nor one that you'll ever cease retelling."

Abraham took a sip of his drink. "Well, I do enjoy being the hero."

"That you were," he mumbled as he looked for an exit to this conversation. Seeing the men begin to gather, he found his opportunity and looked to them both. "It seems it's time."

Bowing to Katrina, Ichabod gave her a tight smile. "It was lovely to _meet_ you, Ms. van Tassel."

Though she was hiding her discomfort with expertise, Ichabod knew her too well and could see right through it as her eyes focused on his boots again.

"The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Crane."

With every ounce of control he had within him, he turned away, his day having taken a considerable turn for the worse.


	12. Chapter 12

Once the meeting was over, Ichabod was glad to escape to the outdoors and acquire some much needed fresh air.

He found the entire meeting one stuffy mess and his thoughts weren't helping. They'd consumed him so much that the meeting's topics had passed by without his notice. He'd been too distracted by his constant attempt to suppress his frown at Abraham's hand ever present at Katrina's back.

How had this happened?

Fate was cruel to him indeed. Not only was his love marrying, but it was to his partner, a man he was forced to spend all of his time with.

He had to do his best not to feel betrayed as they were engaged long before he found Katrina again, but still...

Making his way to the church, he decided to visit Alfred, but unfortunately found the Reverend to be absent.

Venturing, instead, into the graveyard, he found himself under the same tree in which he'd sat with Katrina the first time he'd kissed her. The memory was forever etched into the very fabric of his being.

The gentle breeze felt wonderful against his burning skin as he was still flushed with emotion, raging emotion. Jealousy, betrayal, hurt, love. They were all coursing through him, attempting to escape into the world about him.

How he'd allowed himself to come to this place was beyond his understanding. His father had always warned Katrina would ruin him. At the moment, he truly felt as if she had taken his heart and torn it to pieces.

_"I'm going to be late."_

_"No, you're not. We're almost there."_

_He picked up his pace. "My father is going to be so mad."_

_As they rounded the corner, his home came into sight._

_"See? We made it," she said self-satisfied. "And you still have a few minutes before your father arrives home."_

_He turned to her with a small grin. "Tomorrow?"_

_With a bright smile, she nodded, but her smile quickly faded as her eyes darted to something over his shoulder._

_Dread filled him as he slowly turned to find his father standing a few feet away, a deep scowl upon his face._

_Swallowing down his nerves, he started, "Father-"_

_"What are you doing with that girl?"_

_From his father's voice, he knew he was in deep trouble._

_"I was just..."_

_For all his skill when it came to spinning out words, he found none were coming to him at this moment._

_His father stepped forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, jerking him close. "How many times have I told you to stay away from that girl?"_

_"I-"_

_His father shoved him toward the house. "Get inside immediately!"_

_"Stop hurting him!"_

_Once he regained his balance, he turned to see Katrina with her hands balled into fists at her sides, he face scrunched into a frown._

_His father spun on her. "You get home! I'll be having a words with your parents soon enough about your constant interference in my son's life." He pointed a finger at her. "You are to stay away from my son. Do you understand, girl?"_

_Katrina stood her ground and he could see his father readying himself to jerk her up as well._

_"Go home, Katrina." She shot him a glance to which he gave the meanest look he could manage. "I don't want to see you anymore."_

_He took in her shocked expression for a moment before turning on his heel and heading toward the door to his home._

The moment his father had stepped in the house after him, he'd not only received the thrashing of his life, but also another lecture on how beneath him Katrina van Tassel was. His father had always been of the opinion that Katrina was a wild girl, unlearned and headed absolutely nowhere in life. By that point in time, he'd had his father's words already etched into his memory from having heard it so many times.

The following day, he'd profusely apologized to Katrina, begging her forgiveness. She had heckled him for days after that as she drug him through the streets, getting him into much potential trouble.

Sighing at his memory, he continued to sit beneath the tree, sulking in his misfortunes.

That is, until he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

He wasn't alone.

With a slight turn of his head, he found Katrina watching him from a few feet away.

When their eyes caught, she gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you."

He returned to his previous position before mumbling, "You didn't."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her skirt and boots come into view before she settled beside him.

"I was glad to see you today. I've missed you."

Her voice sent a rush of feeling through him to which he firmly did his best to stomp down.

The light breeze caught her hair and caused it to sway back and forth.

"It didn't seem like you were glad," he bit out. "Anything but, actually."

Her hands came up to push her hair away in a frustrated manner, pulling his gaze.

Her eyes were darting all about his face.

"What was I supposed to do, Ichabod? Throw my arms around you? Abraham isn't even aware that we know each other."

His eyes found their way back to the many graves spread out before him. So many lives. Had they all been as complicated as his?

"I can't believe he's your betrothed. The one man I'm forced to spend my time with, my partner."

"I thought you knew," came her whisper.

"He never mentioned your name."

Not once. How was it possible that the man never said her name? Irritation at his friend's vain ways took the lead as his foremost feeling.

She sighed. "I'm so sorry. I should have written you the moment I knew he was your partner. It should have come from me."

Her apology was genuine. He could hear it in her voice and the nervousness of her body as well. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I shouldn't let my emotions rule me so. My father always said that was my greatest flaw."

"For all his intelligence, your father was a fool, Ichabod."

Raising his eyebrows at her, he smiled for the first time. "I'm sure he would disagree. He thought you a wild girl that would lead me astray."

A laugh emanated from her. "Did he, now?"

"Perhaps he was clairvoyant."

A pause occurred before she answered. "You believe I've led you astray?"

Her question sounded serious.

When he caught her eyes, he saw she was now wearing a frown.

Shrugging his shoulders, he released a heavy breath. "I'm not sure. Everything is so..."

Her frown deepened. "That's never what I intended."

A harsh chuckle escaped him, his previously pushed down emotions surfacing. "What's that saying? 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.'"

She turned away from him, a hurt expression upon her face.

Now it was guilt filling him.

"Katrina, I'm sorry." She wouldn't look at him, so he reached out, sliding his hand beneath her chin, to gently turn her gaze back to his. "I know you only want the best for me."

Her eyes glistened as she stared into his. "You and my mother were the only two people in the world who ever truly cared about me. Everyone else attempts to treat me as if I'm made of glass, something to be bartered for something else better. You must know you're the most important person in the world to me, Ichabod. You always have been."

He wiped a hand over his eyes while attempting to calm the raging storm he felt building within him.

"I don't understand why I feel this way, why I'm so upset. It's not as if we've spent any grand amount of time together in the last year. We've spent less than a week together since the last time we saw each other as children."

She was quiet for a moment before her hand gently wrapped around his, her slender fingers threading through his larger ones.

"Perhaps it's because true friendship never fades, no matter the amount of time that passes. We spent every day together as children, shared just as many hurts as we did laughter. We were all we had, Ichabod."

He opened his eyes to find hers once more. "You're still all I have."

Fighting his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed her. Not a soft, gentle kiss as before, but a hard, needy one, filled with all the pent up emotion he held behind it and, to his surprise, she returned it equally, if not more forcefully.

Shifting closer to her, he slid his hand to her neck, reveling in its slender form.

When she ran her hands up and through his hair, deepening their kiss, he felt as though he were about to explode with the overwhelming desire that was now coursing through him.

But then it was over as she abruptly shoved away from him and stood, her back now to him, her shoulders moving up and down with her heavy breathing.

Quickly standing, he tried to think of something to say, an apology for his inappropriate behavior.

She wasn't his to kiss, but another's.

"Katrina, I'm so sorry. I-"

Without warning, she spun, grabbing his face with her hands, her mouth finding his again.

Stumbling back at her sudden movement, he found his back against the tree as she pressed herself into him, her kiss desperate and searching.

It took him a moment to finally recover from his shock, but when he did, he slid his hands to wrap around her, spreading them across her back to pull her closer.

Eventually, the need for air became too great as they pulled apart, but she didn't release him as her mouth ventured to his neck where she burned kisses along his throat.

The sensation of her soft lips lapping at his heating skin sent a pulsing rush throughout his body.

When he felt as if he were about to explode, he gripped her waist tightly before turning to lift her against the tree, firmly pinning her against it. One hand under her thigh and the other at her neck, he pressed his body flush into hers, a need to feel as much of her as possible consuming him.

His face found a home in her neck as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him as close to her as possible, her chest heaving against him from her erratic breathing.

Her hot breath ghosted along his cheek.

"Ichabod..."

His name on her lips in such a way forced his own moan into her. He was quickly losing his control and couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

**Soo, yeah Ichabod and Katrina just took a moral turn for the worst. The thing about that is, Abraham's decision in the show was a little dramatic for the two of them just _saying_ they were in love. At least, that's what I thought. I mean, yeah, the guy had a serious reason to be upset and yeah Moloch caught him at a really great moment, but still... I feel like he needs a bit of a better reason to become the Horseman of Death. A little more betrayal needs to take place.**

**Plus, these two characters are human and far from perfect, both on the show and in this fic. Their relationship on the show is far from a happy fairytale which is why I like them so much. So a few mistakes are a must.**

**With that said, on to more drama...**


	13. Chapter 13

As he adjusted his trousers, he observed her as as she re-laced the front of her dress, her gaze avoiding his. He couldn't blame her as he was mentally berating himself for the actions he'd just taken. It was absolutely detestable and completely unforgivable. She had every right to set him ablaze for his actions as he well knew she could. For him to have taken something so precious from her...

Just as he was about to begin profusely apologizing, a voice interrupted him, causing him to nearly faint.

"Ah, there you are, Ichabod. I'd heard you were looking for me earlier."

Clearing his throat, he stole another glance at Katrina, who was still not looking at him, before facing the Reverend fully. "Yes, I was stopping by to check in on you. It's been a while."

If the man suspected something about them, he was hiding it well.

"Of course. Katrina, I heard the meeting in town went well."

Her voice was shaky as she spoke, her eyes firmly trained on the one of the many headstones. "Yes. It-it went well."

The Reverend clapped his hands together in approval with a broad smile. "Very good. Well, Ichabod if you'd like to come up to the church, we could discuss the year you've just had. I hear it's been rather exciting."

Offering the man a tight smile, he glanced to the old church.

Fearing he might be struck down if he entered the holy place, he declined.

"I'm afraid I must be getting back. I promised the Commander and Ab-Abraham I'd meet them for dinner this evening."

The thought of his friend made his guilt deepen.

Alfred sighed his disappointment. "Perhaps before you leave?"

Ichabod nodded. "That would be lovely."

Wishing the man would pardon himself, Ichabod found himself disappointed when he asked Katrina to speak with her back at the church.

"Yes. Well, it was- it was lovely to see you both again."

Nearly tripping over himself, he turned and made his way back towards town, guilt eating at him more with every step he took.

* * *

The following day, he found himself completely exhausted. His nightmares had shifted drastically the previous night. He'd dreamed he was with Katrina, her warmth encircling him, her love consuming him. Then, the dream shifted suddenly and it was Abraham and not he that was with her. He found he preferred the faceless man of his former nightmares to these.

Roughly pushing at his eyes with his hands, he did his best to shove the images from his mind, knowing it was useless, but maintaining his attempt nonetheless.

"Ichabod! How wonderful, I found you."

Dread filled him as he opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Abraham and Katrina.

Abraham's arm was looped through hers and he had the overwhelming urge to rip it from him. The very idea that the man was allowed to touch her aggravated him to no end.

"Abraham," he replied with a curt nod. Glancing at her, he gave a slight bow. "Ms. van Tassel."

She met his eyes for the briefest of moments before giving a tight smile and diverting her attention to the street.

Abraham's broad smile only furthered his irritation. "I was hoping to speak with you. I have a rather important matter to discuss with you."

"Of course," he replied, doing his best to maintain his composure. "How can I help you?"

Abraham gestured to Katrina. "As you know, Katrina and I are to be wed next month and I'd like for you to attend as my best man."

He felt he must have lost his hearing. Surely, Abraham hadn't just asked him what he thought.

Glancing to Katrina, he found her still looking up the street rather than at him.

He felt like a scoundrel. What she must think of him now.

"I'm not sure," he started uncertainly. "Well, you see, I have many tasks to fulfill. I don't believe I'll be in Sleepy Hollow at that time."

"Nonsense!" Abraham objected with a wave of his hand. "I've already spoken to the Commander. He said he'd be more than happy to release you for the wedding. I believe he'll be in attendance as well. Come now, Ichabod. I must have my partner standing with me on the day I wed the most beautiful woman in all of Sleepy Hollow."

Katrina turned to Abraham and whispered, "Abraham, Ichabod said no. You should ask someone else. There are plenty of men who-"

"I will not accept that," he interrupted with a shake of his head. "Ichabod, I must have you there. You are my most trusted friend."

The feeling of being completely gutted took over his body as he darted another glance to Katrina whose jaw was clenched tightly.

Seeing no way out of his current predicament, he sighed. "Of course. If that's what you truly want."

"Wonderful!"

Abraham was overly excited in his opinion while Katrina looked ready to throttle someone.

"Now that that's settled," he turned to Katrina. "I'm afraid I must leave you, darling. My parents and I are in need of a conversation about the wedding." He turned back to him. "Ichabod, escort Katrina home for me, will you?"

Katrina sighed, clearly put off by the suggestion. "I can make it home on my own, Abraham. I'm perfectly capable of-"

"Katrina," Abraham interrupted admonishingly. "It's not proper for a lady to be without an escort." Abraham offered up Katrina's arm to him. "Ichabod?"

With yet another sigh, he reluctantly accepted.

"Good," Abraham said with a kiss to her cheek. "I shall see you in the morning for breakfast with my parents."

Abraham took off without another word.

As they began their walk in silence, he found his gaze firmly planted on the dirt in front of him. He had absolutely no idea how to even begin speaking with her.

"Yesterday's meeting went well," he broached uncertainly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her glance at him. "It did."

"I imagine your coven is monitoring the war's progress."

"Always."

Her short answers clearly made known her distaste of talking with him. The result being that silence once more ensued.

When the sight of her family home coming into view, it prompted the question that was slowly eating at him.

"Next month?"

She turned slightly toward him before nodding. "Yes."

"Abraham's excited."

Her arm flinched. "He is."

The tension between them couldn't have been thicker as they reached her front porch.

More than ready to depart, he gave a slight bow of his head. "I should be going."

"Don't," she whispered, her arm tightening on his. "Come inside."

Jerking his head up to her in shock, he spoke. "I shouldn't. It would be-"

"Inappropriate?" she finished with a small laugh. "I believe we are past what would be inappropriate, Ichabod."

His gaze fell guiltily to his boots. "Katrina-"

"Please, come inside."

He looked about. No one appeared to be around.

With a sigh, he nodded before entering the house behind her.

He'd never been inside Katrina's house before. It was larger than the one she'd lived in back in England. More decorative. Her father must have done well for himself after their move.

Allowing his gaze to settle back on her, he found her quietly observing him.

"I have something for you. Come with me."

He hesitated before doing as she asked and following her to a door upstairs.

Upon reaching it, he realized it was her bedroom, bringing him to an abrupt halt as he looked back down the stairs uncertainly.

"No one's home, nor will they be until nightfall."

He turned back to her, his body breaking out in a light sweat. "I shouldn't be up here alone with you."

She reached for his hand, pulling him inside with a smile. "Stop worrying so much."

Once she had him inside, she closed the door, forced him to sit on the bed, then walked to her dresser where she shuffled through it for a moment before grabbing something and walking back to sit beside him.

"I believe this is yours."

In her hand, she held the sapphire he'd given her the day she'd left for the colonies. It was on a chain now, but he still recognized the jewel.

In shock, he quickly glanced up at her. "You kept it? After all this time?"

Meeting his eyes, she gave a sad smile. "Of course, I did. My best friend gave it to me." She pressed the jewel into his hand. "But you should have it back now."

Not understanding, he frowned. "But I gave it to you. I don't want it back."

With a sigh, she looked down at it. "Your grandmother gave this to you, Ichabod."

"I'm aware of that, Katrina," he replied stiffly as he suddenly realized where this conversation was headed. "I was there."

Her gaze came back to his. "You and I both know she gave it to you for a reason. You should take it back."

"No," he bit out in agitation.

"Ichabod-"

"I said, no!"

Regret for yelling at her immediately entered him as his eyes slammed shut, but he was simply unable to contain himself.

"You have to," came her soft reply. "You're going to meet someone one day, someone to love, and you should give it to her. It's why your grandmother gave it to you."

Opening his eyes, he shot her a hard look. "I already did."

"Ichabod-"

Standing abruptly, he tossed the jewel to the bed beside her.

"If you don't want it, throw it away, sell it. I don't care. But I'm _not_ taking it back."

Her eyes filled with sympathy which only furthered his agitation.

"You're going to find someone, Ichabod-"

"I already did, Katrina!" His patience was slipping. "Why can't you understand that?"

"I'm getting married," she choked out.

He stared at her incredulously. "And is that supposed to make me stop loving you?"

Tears streaming down her face, she shook her head. "Don't say that."

"What? That I love you?" He sighed. "Katrina, I've loved you since I was a boy. I might not have known exactly what I was doing when I gave that to you, but I did know that it felt right."

Moving to sit next to her once more, he gently reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry I'm hurting you, but I simply cannot keep this inside of me any longer. My mother told me I'd find another to love, while my father tried to beat it out of me, but neither worked." Leaning his forehead against hers, he spoke softly. "I love you, Katrina van Tassel. I always have and I fear I always will."

After a moment of silence, her hand came up to touch his face.

"I wish things were different, that I could give you what you want."

"You can. If it's what you want, too, then...Katrina, I love you."

Her eyes fell closed. "You have to stop saying that. It's only going to make things worse."

Frustration began to set in once more as he pulled back and grabbed her hands. "How can things get any worse? You're marring someone else."

Her gaze found his, an overwhelming sadness permeating her features.

"Katrina, please. He doesn't love you."

She sighed, her own frustration seeping out of her. "You think I don't know that? That I don't dread my wedding day? The thought of that man touching me in any way sickens me."

Swallowing down his own revulsion, he shook his head. "You don't have to marry him."

"Yes, I do. If for no other reason than to stop myself from..." Her eyes fell to their hands, still tangled tightly together. "I have to marry him, Ichabod."

"Why? Tell me why," he plead desperately.

"I've already told you why," she whispered heatedly. "I can't allow myself to be distracted or conflicted with emotions concerning you, Ichabod. The results could be disastrous."

He frowned, slight disbelief filling him. "For you to love me would be disastrous? That's ridiculous, Katrina."

"Is it?" she asked quickly. "The power that we possess. It's not something to be treated lightly, Ichabod." Her green eyes bore into his. "The fate of the world is more important than two individual's feelings." All the air left her body. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, he remained silent, turning his gaze to the wall across the room. She didn't have many personal items on display to distract him. Though, there was a small picture of her mother on her bedside table. He'd been right as a boy. Katrina had grown to look like her.

Beautiful.

"Do you ever wish you were different? Normal, like everyone else?"

She laughed lightly. "You mean, ordinary?"

With a smile, his gaze fell to her small hand in his as he ran a thumb over her knuckles.

"You couldn't be ordinary if you tried."

After a pause, she whispered, "No, I've never wanted to be any different than I am. I've always loved helping people, being special...at least, until now."

He slowly nodded before picking up the necklace he'd carelessly tossed, allowing it to dangle from his fingers. "Don't make me take it back." Eyes turning to hers, he whispered, "Please...Keep it."

She continued staring at him a moment longer until her eyes fell to the necklace. The thought that she would refuse entered him, but it was dashed away as she bit her lip, completely entrancing him, before turning to pull her hair out of the way, exposing her slender neck to his gaze.

Slightly surprised at her gesture, he hesitantly lifted the necklace over her head, his nerves causing his hands to shake as he settled it about her neck and clumsily fumbled with the clasp. As he managed to accomplish his task, she turned back to him, his stomach twinging as a result.

She was beyond beautiful.

His body completely tensed as her gaze fell to his mouth and she ever so slowly closed the distance between them.

If there were such a thing as a perfect kiss, this had to be it. The gentle touch of her lips to his sent an extraordinary sensation throughout his body.

When she pulled back just enough to let her lips brush over his, he finally took in the breath he was sure he'd been without for quite some time.

"Make love to me, Ichabod."

This time, he was sure he wasn't breathing.

Eyes darting all about her face, he shook his head, his brain not fully understanding. "I thought...we can't."

"We already have," she whispered. "And it was something I'll never forget. But it was rushed and just once I want to experience what it's like to be truly loved. Before I enter into a loveless marriage that will never have that." She shook her head. "I know it's selfish of me to ask, but..." Her fingers slid to his neck, gently caressing him as they wove through his hair. "Please, Ichabod...make love to me."

Heart racing, he considered her words, knowing he wouldn't refuse her. Being with her was too much of a temptation, especially with the knowledge that she would soon be far from his reach.

When her lips lightly brushed over his once more, he found his will failing him at her soft touch.

Needing no further encouragement, he closed the remaining distance between them, fully intending to do exactly as his love had asked.


	14. Chapter 14

**Since I was asked so nicely, here's the next chapter :)**

The only sound about the room was the soft sounds of their breathing and the gentle breeze as it rustled the curtains of her bedroom window. Hours must have passed by now. Her refusal to allow him to part from her was one he gladly gave into, resulting in playful kisses, light naps, and bouts of lovemaking transpiring at various times.

Every second of this experience was steadily burning itself in his memory.

His eyes slid closed as he took in the feel of her bare body against his, their legs an entwined mess beneath the blankets that had shockingly yet to leave the bed. Currently, his hand was still buried in her hair, while hers continued a light stroking along his chest, her fingers drawing small designs over his warm skin.

"I never want to move from this moment," she whispered as she pressed herself even further into him, her soft lips finding his neck.

Unable to contain his smile, he turned on his side to lie face to face with her.

"I'll surely never forget it. "

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Of course, you won't. Your memory forgets nothing."

Eyes following his hand as it slid up her side to rest at her neck over the small sapphire, he whispered, "I don't need an eidetic memory to remember this moment."

That earned a smile from her. "I suppose not."

The way her red hair fell in long waves over her shoulders, her skin practically pulsing with her breathing, resulted in him becoming completely mesmerized.

"You're the most exquisite creature I've ever seen." His thumb drug over her lips. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful, except..." He allowed his words to die off as his eyes left hers.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he quickly replied.

She moved closer to him, dropping her chin to catch his eyes. "Tell me."

Slightly embarrassed, he attempted to laugh it off. "I just-I've had dreams before."

He could see that instead of staving off her curiosity, he was only deepening it as her eyebrows rose.

"About?" She prodded.

Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "About you and...a little girl."

Her hand at his neck stilled and he found suddenly himself afraid to meet her eyes.

"A little girl?"

Nodding, he shifted uncomfortably.

"What did she look like?"

His eyes jumped to hers, finding that she had a small smile on her face. With a sigh, he recalled the dream, his own smile making an appearance.

"Red hair."

She chuckled. "Of course you'd imagine her to have this awful hair."

In answer, he allowed his hand to slide through the abundance of red. "I love your hair. It's beautiful."

"Enough," she interjected, with a light shove to his shoulder. "What else?"

Smiling, he continued as his fingers ghosted over her arm. "Pale skin." Her breath hitch at his touch. "Blue eyes."

Her hand slid from his neck to just above his eyes. "Blue?"

Slightly self-conscious, he nodded. "Yes."

"What's her name?"

Frowning at her question, he shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose she doesn't have one."

She regarded him with a playful expression. "Every little girl needs a name."

With a chuckle, he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"We should name her," she said, excitedly sitting up and facing him.

"Katrina..."

He knew what she was doing.

"How about Charlotte? That was your grandmother's name."

Defeated by her persistence, he sighed. "No, she didn't seem like a Charlotte."

"Ok... Helen."

Confused, he frowned at her. There were no Helen's in either of their families as far as he knew.

"Helen?"

A sneaky smile crept across her face. "After our first year professor. I do believe you took a slight liking to her."

His eyes widened. "I absolutely did not!"

"You stuttered every time she called your name for roll."

"That was only because-"

Her eyebrows rose. "Because...?"

"Because you were sitting in front of me and she said your name first," he blurted out quickly. "I was always so distracted by you that I would stutter out my answer when you turned to look at me. Satisfied?"

Avoiding her eyes, he prayed she wouldn't laugh at his silliness.

"Martha?"

His eyes settled back on hers to find her smiling sweetly at him.

Relieved, he let out the breath he'd been holding. "No, I loved my mother, but her name was far too common."

She rolled her eyes. "Then, you pick something."

"I don't know," he whispered, as he sat up and leaned into her, placing a gentle kiss to her shoulder with the hope that he could distract her.

She laughed and pulled away before pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Come on, Ichabod. I know you've thought about it. Tell me."

He was afraid he'd upset her if he told her the name he associated with the girl.

"No, you should pick another."

Leaning forward, she lightly kissed him. "Tell me."

Inhaling a deep breath, then releasing it, he relented. "Cassie. Well, Cassandra, but Cassie."

She was staring intently at him now, so he rushed with his explanation.

"I'm sorry. I just... I always thought your name was so perfect... and your mother chose it. So, I thought she should have the other name your mother chose."

He felt horrible as he saw a tear make its way down her face. Bringing his hand up to wipe it away, he cupped her face.

"Katrina, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Shocked, he found himself confused. "It is?"

Her eyes fell to her hands in her lap as they tugged at the blanket covering her lower body. "After Cassie drowned, my mother never spoke her name again, so neither did I, but that was wrong of me. She was my twin. I'll always carry a part of her inside of me and I shouldn't neglect that anymore." Releasing a breath, she smiled. "It's the perfect name for our little girl."

His heart stopped. "Our little girl?"

Laughing, a bright smile lit her face as she glanced up to him."Red hair and blue eyes. Was she someone else's?"

"No!" he responded a little too quickly.

"Well, then, she was ours." A thoughtful look took over her face. "I can almost imagine her."

Pulling her close, he kissed her, thankful that his bringing up her lost sister hadn't upset her too much. "I assure you, she's quite beautiful."

"I wonder who she would be more like? You or me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, she'd definitely be like you, dragging some poor, unsuspecting boy into all sorts of trouble."

She laughed. "As if you were ever unsuspecting. You knew my flare for danger and disobedience. I have little doubt that you flew into every adventure with me fully aware that there would be severe consequences if we were caught."

Eyes wide, he shook his head. "I had no idea what you were going to come up with next. Like climbing to the roof of the church and dropping things on passerby's, or stealing that loaf of bread from Mr. Hubbard's window sill."

"He was a rude, greedy man and he called me a scoundrel!" she exclaimed quickly. "I couldn't let him get away with that!"

Chuckling, he added, "You _were_ a little scoundrel and a terrible influence, as well."

A small smile filled her suddenly more serious features as she stroked a hand over his eyes.

"I love you, Ichabod."

His eyes widened slightly. She hadn't said it before. He'd known she did, but to actually hear her say it sent a feeling through him unlike any other.

"I love you, too, Katrina."

With a bright smile, she tugged his mouth back to hers.

After a moment of gentle kisses, she pushed at his shoulders until he was lying on his back with her hovering over him.

The sight of his love so beautiful and exposed just for him sent a rush of desire and admiration through him.

When her soft lips began a light trail along his chest, steadily moving in a downward direction, his body slightly shivered beneath her.

Inexperienced as he was, he was fairly positive she was about to give him another wonderful memory to cherish.


	15. Chapter 15

"Ichabod!"

Quickly turning, he found Abraham walking toward him. Unable to contain his curse, he conjured a tight smile upon his face.

It had been three weeks since he and Katrina's unforgettable experience and he'd done his best to avoid Abraham in that time. He felt guilty for betraying his friend in such a way, even though he treasured the experience at the same time.

"Where have you been, my friend? I've not seen you in quite some time."

"Here and there," he mumbled absentmindedly. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, yes," Abraham said, nodding enthusiastically. "If you will, I'm in need of your help with a matter."

"Of course."

"Wonderful! Follow me."

As they fell into pace beside each other, Abraham threw him a glance. "I can't tell you how exited I am for the wedding."

Giving another tight smile, Ichabod nodded. "I'm sure."

Abraham shook his head. "She's absolutely beautiful, is she not?"

He had to suppress the urge to groan. Why did they have to talk about her?

"Yes, you're a very lucky man, Abraham."

"I am, aren't I?"

With a roll of his eyes, he chose not to respond, lest he fall to the ground and begin demanding the world suddenly become fair.

"Honestly, though, her beauty is the only desirable quality she seems to have."

Casting a confused look to his friend, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the woman is completely talentless," he said, with slight irritation in his voice.

He couldn't help his frown as he paused in his walk. "You can't be serious, Abraham. Katrina's one of the most talented women I've ever met."

Abraham gave him an incredulous look. "And what talent is it that you've seen? She doesn't sew or play any sort of instrument. No writing. No painting." He threw a hand up. "I can't imagine what it was she did as a girl."

As he took in his friend's irritated expression, he narrowed his eyes. "She's a nurse, Abraham, surely that accounts for something with you."

"Oh, no," Abraham replied quickly, resuming his walk. "Just as soon as we are wed, I'll be putting a stop to that. No wife of mine is going to be working, especially not in a place such as that."

His disbelief was growing deeper by the second. He'd know Abraham was vain, but this?

"She loves working at the infirmary. You can't take that from her."

Abraham cast him a brief glance. "And what would you know of what she loves, Ichabod? You just met her."

Taking a moment, he considered his response. "Well, it's rather obvious in the way she speaks of it."

With a huff, Abraham nodded. "Yes, her outspokenness is another issue we'll have to address. She's been given far too much leeway already."

"You intend to take her voice as well?" he asked, growing increasingly angry.

Abraham, however, didn't seem to notice. "She's headstrong. A very unattractive quality in a woman. I'm sure once she begins her lessons on how to act in the company of others, she'll be much more of a delight. My mother is quite looking forward to teaching her the proper ways of women in society."

At the end of his patience, he threw a hard glare at his friend. "Abraham-"

"Ah, Mr. van Brunt. I'm so happy you could make it."

Glancing up the steps of the house they'd come up to, he took in the rather portly man before him.

Abraham smiled broadly. "Yes, of course. Come Ichabod, wait until you see."

* * *

As cruel fate would have it, the help Abraham needed was that of picking out jewelry for Katrina to present her. If only his power as a Witness could make him disappear from this moment. His anger from earlier was still simmering just below the surface as he looked anywhere but at the man who was about to ruin Katrina.

"What do you think, Ichabod?"

Pulled from his musings, Ichabod glanced at the overly extravagant piece Abraham was holding up.

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Ichabod smiled. "It's a lovely piece."

"It's the best one," Abraham replied in a rather annoyed tone.

"It's not my place."

"Ichabod, this is important."

Realizing he was not getting out if this, he looked at the pieces with a sigh.

"I'm not sure it suits Katrina."

Spotting the perfect one, he picked it up.

"This one. It embodies her elegance, simplicity, beauty, and _restraint_."

The last part he directed at the jeweler who was clearly out to make a sale.

After a moment, Abraham sighed and snapped his fingers at the man. "Very well." Pointing a finger at him, he continued, "I'm trusting you."

Smiling over his smothering anger, Ichabod curtly nodded.

* * *

"Turn around, darling."

As she acquiesced to his request, Abraham brought the jewel up and over her head, allowing it to settle around her neck. When her eyes fell to it, they darted about for a moment, before coming to his. He couldn't help giving her a small smile, which she returned in kind.

His smile, however, faded as Abraham twirled her hair around his fingers inciting a near groan from him. How he hated that man touching her.

"It's perfect," came Katrina's reply to the gift as she turned to Abraham with a tight smile. "It's exactly what I would have chosen."

"I knew it would be."

The urge to roll his eyes was pushed down as he instead allowed his gaze to fall to the wooden floor, wishing more than anything that he could disappear. Perhaps, he'd spent enough time here to appease Abraham. Now, he just had to come up with a polite excuse to leave.

"Ah, Rutledge is here, with news from the crown," Abraham said with a broad smile as his hand slid to Katrina's back. "Word is they're sending troops to disrupt Congress."

With a kiss to her cheek that had Ichabod ready to strangle him, he departed with his parents, leaving him with the opportunity to speak with her.

Her gaze danced about the room as she maintained her tight smile before she turned to him, holding out her hand. Accepting it, they began walking amongst the other guests.

"You picked this out, didn't you?"

He glanced at her. "Sorry?"

"Abraham's taste is far more excessive. He's not bought anything of the kind for me."

"Perhaps he's learning," he said teasingly, knowing he wasn't fooling her one bit.

When she raised her eyebrows, he admitted, "He caught me earlier."

"Did he? You agreed to go with him to pick out jewelry for me?"

Sighing, he glanced to the man in question across the room. "Well, at the time, I didn't realize what I was agreeing to."

She turned to smile at a lady that passed by. "At least you prevented him from adorning me with yet another ridiculous gift." She glanced down to her dress. "I swear the dressmaker used every bit of lace she had to make this. It's ridiculous."

He smiled, his eyes never straying from her face. "You're beautiful."

The side of her mouth twitched with a smile before she shook her head. "You wouldn't think that if you saw my shoes. They have pearls on them, Ichabod. _Pearls_."

Chuckling, he glanced about the room, not wanting to be caught staring at her too long. To start a rumor about town would not bode well for any of them.

"Most women would be happy with such gifts of affection."

"Most women aren't in love with someone other than their fiancé."

His eyes darted back to her surprised. After their day spent in her home, they'd both agreed to be careful with where they found themselves. To be alone with each other could lead to consequences neither were willing to face. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, she _was_ marrying Abraham. To continue in a less than professional fashion would be unwise.

He wasn't sure about her but it was almost unbearable for him. He'd taken to avoiding her nearly as much as he avoided Abraham. To be in her presence and not be able to reach out and touch her was too much.

To hear her admit her love aloud, however, stole his breath.

"I thought we agreed not to say that anymore," he whispered despondently.

She darted a glance to Abraham, who was distracted with his politics, before stepping closer to him, her scent filling his senses at her nearness.

"Are you angry with me?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "Of course not. I just...it hurts, Katrina."

Her eyes shone with her sorrow. "I know. I am so sorry."

With the wedding tomorrow, he decided to make a last plea. "Don't marry him."

"Ichabod-"

"He has plans for you, Katrina. He's going to take everything you hold dear."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I've always known that."

His frown deepened as he allowed another glance about the room. "Then, why must you marry him?"

The frustrated noise that left her prompted his eyes to find hers once more. She looked less than happy. "We've discussed this."

"No," he whispered heatedly. "You said you couldn't be with me and while I don't like that answer, I understand it. What I don't understand is why you are allowing this to happen. Why can't you simply remain unwed?"

She brought a hand to her eyes before turning from him to face toward Abraham, who was still across the room.

"Because you'll never leave me be. If I leave him, there will be nothing to stop us from seizing the opportunity to be together."

"You say that as if it's such a bad thing."

Her eyes came back to his, her own frown forming. "I can't do this again. We agreed-"

"No, you gave an order and I followed it," he bit out.

"Ichabod, please-"

"I have to go."

He turned to leave, but her hand caught his arm.

"Don't do this."

When he turned back to her, he found her eyes darting about the room with quiet panic.

He shook his head. "I'm not the one doing anything." Her eyes met his. "You are."

With that, he continued his path out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

The dreaded day was here.

As he stood in Abraham's family home, he did his best to control his breathing. He was about to watch the woman he loved above all else marry a man who could care less about her. The feeling as though he might actually pass out began to fill him.

"Ichabod." At his name, he turned and found Reverend Knapp coming to stand next to him. "She's asking for you."

"Katrina?" he asked with a bit of hope.

"Yes, she has ordered me to come and fetch you."

Nodding, he started toward the stairs, but the Reverend's hand at his arm halted him.

"She has to marry him."

Staring at the man in confusion, he frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Stepping closer, the man glanced about the room seemingly to make sure no one was in hearing distance. "She _must _marry him. If you go up there as she has asked, you and I both know the likelihood of her going through with this is limited."

Pulling his arm from the man he considered his friend, Ichabod frowned. "That's Katrina's decision."

The Reverend shook his head. "If she doesn't marry him, she will lose everything. Her father will disown her, Abraham will sully her name, and her coven will cast her out."

"Why would her coven do that?" he asked confusedly.

"Because you are the Witness and she is your protector. The reasons for her denial of you have not changed simply because her wedding day is upon her. The coven would never accept the two of you, not with your combined power. She would be ruined, perhaps even killed. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" he bit out, feeling his anger beginning to simmer.

The man sighed. "Katrina is like a daughter to me. I care for her; and if she were a normal woman and you a normal man, I would tell you to go to her and run." Alfred fixed him with a sorrowful, yet pointed look. "But you're not normal. You have a destiny Mr. Crane."

"You have no right to dictate out lives," he whispered heatedly.

Alfred shook his head. "That is not my intention. This decision is ultimately yours and yours alone. All I ask is that you consider the consequences not only to Katrina, but to the world as well."

With that, the man turned from him and moved away, leaving him even more confused and lightheaded than he'd been before.

* * *

As he stood outside the door, he felt his heart begin to tear into a thousand pieces. Uncertainty was his foremost feeling. Could he actually see her today and not drop to his knees begging her to stop this madness?

Gathering all the strength he could muster, he entered the room and felt his breath catch.

"Katrina, you're..."

Beautiful wasn't the word. There was no word.

"Ichabod," she whispered. It was mere moments before her arms were around him. "I can't do this. I can't."

Closing his eyes, he held her tightly for a moment before releasing her. "You have to."

Her hands reached up to cup his face. "No," she said, desperation in her voice. "We could run away together. Far away. Where no one would ever find us."

The memory of saying those exact words to her the day he found out she was leaving him as a child sprung to his mind.

With a sigh, he covered her hands with his own. "If I thought that would give you peace, I would, my love. I would take you so far from here."

Her tears broke him. Katrina never cried.

"I would be happy. We could be happy and have a family." Her hands slid down his chest. "We could have that little girl and I would give you as many children as you wanted. Ichabod, please. _Please_, take me away."

Her fingers were now grasping his coat so tightly he thought she might actually rip it.

Hands laying against her neck, he whispered, "Katrina, I love you more than anything and I want nothing more than for you to have everything you've ever wanted."

"Then, give it to me," she begged almost desperately. "I want _you_. I want to marry _you_, Ichabod."

When she reached up and kissed him, he felt his knees nearly give out. The taste of her was so sweet and her body against his was so soft. He wanted nothing more than to do exactly as she asked, but Alfred Knapp's words haunted him.

Indulging in what he knew would be their last kiss a moment longer, he gently pulled from her, the wetness of her tears still on his face.

"Katrina-"

"Please, don't," she whispered. "Please don't say it."

Closing his eyes, he placed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry, my love."

"You said you wanted this. You begged me not to marry him."

Tenderly cupping her face, he shook his head. "We can't be that selfish. You would never forgive me if I gave in now."

After a moment of staring at him, she sucked in a breath, then pushed him away, turning her back to him. Her struggle was visible even then. Her shoulders heaving with her heavy breathing as dropped her head to her hands to wipe at her tears.

"Inform Alfred I'll be down momentarily."

His heart dropped at her words. They were cold and formal, bearing nothing of the love she'd held just moments earlier.

Nodding to her even though she couldn't see, he hastily exited the room. Once the door was shut, he leaned his back against it and tried to calm his breathing, the impossibility of this situation weighing heavily on him. There was no way possible this could be right.

With a last sigh, he pushed himself from the door and made his way down the stairs, dread in his every step.

* * *

Standing beside Abraham, Ichabod plastered a fake smile to his face. Alfred was watching him, but he avoided the man's gaze. He'd done enough and Ichabod neither wanted, nor needed the man's sympathetic looks.

When she finally appeared, he imagined she was an angel. That was the only explanation.

Everyone in the room was smiling and whispering, no doubt about her overwhelming beauty. He couldn't blame them. Even through the overdone dress and overly fixed hair, she was still mesmerizing. He never could place his finger on just what it was about her that disabled his ability to think properly when in her presence. He supposed it was just her. She was simply Katrina.

Once she was standing before Abraham, Ichabod tuned everything out. He didn't want this in his memory. Resolutely finding a window, he began an arduous task of staring out of it, all the while imagining he was anywhere else.

The guests moved about the house. Most were highly intoxicated and Ichabod considered himself well on the way to being the same.

As soon as the ceremony had reached its conclusion, he'd immediately searched out the nearest bottle of rum, fully intent on drowning himself in his misery.

"Ichabod, my friend. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Abraham, with Katrina in tow, came to a stop before him.

Looking anywhere but at her, he answered, "I'm just wonderful."

As he tossed back his umpteenth glass of rum, he signaled for another.

"Well, it is the party of the year," proudly boasted Abraham.

When the maid brought a tray of drinks by, Abraham grabbed two glasses along with him, for himself and Katrina, and raised his glass in toast. "To the future."

Touching his glass to his friends', Ichabod wasted no time in downing the entire contents of the drink.

"Better slow down there, Ichabod. You'll be too far gone to enjoy the company of a lady or two tonight. They'd be greatly disappointed."

Unconsciously, his eyes found hers and locked. "They'll recover."

Her plastered on expression of happiness wavered for a moment before reclaiming itself.

"Such a shame you'll miss out on the fun." Abraham looked to Katrina. "I know I can't wait for this party to end," he said with no room for misinterpretation as his hand slid to her lower back. "Can you, darling?"

She gave him a thin smile. "Of course."

Gritting his teeth, Ichabod signaled the maid forward again. She tried to hand him a glass, but he grabbed the entire bottle, instead, and popped the lid.

He noticed Katrina jump at the sound, but he decided to begin ignoring her.

"Katrina, darling."

The three of them turned to Mr. van Tassel as he came to a stop beside her, placing a kiss to her cheek.

"Father."

The man smiled broadly at Abraham. "Congratulations, Abraham."

"Thank you, Sir. I must say, I'm quite thrilled to finally be wed to your daughter."

Baltus nodded. "Oh, I imagine so. This has been in the works for a while now."

For his part, Ichabod wanted to leave immediately.

"Baltus, this is Ichabod Crane, my partner."

At Abraham's gesture, Baltus turned to him with a frown. "Ichabod Crane?"

He noticed Katrina tense at the question. Her reaction was understandable as he and Baltus had yet to cross paths since he'd entered the new word. The last time he'd laid eyes on the man was the day Katrina had departed for the colonies as a girl.

"Yes Sir," he said with a weak smile.

"Have we met? I could almost swear I've heard that name before."

Before he could answer, Abraham spoke. "Perhaps you've heard me speak of him, Baltus."

The man looked between them. "No, that's not it."

Katrina laid a hand on her father's arm. "Father, I believe your wife is looking for you."

"Yes, yes, of course."

The man gave him a final odd look before making his way across the room.

Katrina gave a light chuckle. "My father thinks he knows everyone."

Abraham nodded. "Too true, darling."

When Abraham once again resumed his claim on Katrina's arm, the urge to leave entered him more fully than ever.

Having had more than enough of this party, he patted Abraham on the back, then bowed with his hands extended out before Katrina.

"Enjoy your night, Mrs. van Brunt."

He ignored the hurt that flashed across her face as he brought the bottle to his lips and walked away, fully intent upon attempting to forget this night.


	17. Chapter 17

It was too bright. That was the first thing he noticed upon waking, to be followed quickly by an aching head.

As he sat up, he was slightly surprised to find himself on the floor of his quarters rather than the bed.

Bringing a hand to his head, he took a moment to gather his bearings before he pushed himself up to adjust his clothing and stumble outside.

"Ah, Crane," said one of his fellow soldiers. "Finally among the living. I thought you were going to sleep the entire day away. You sure came pretty close."

Glancing up to the sky, he saw that it was, in fact, well past midday.

"Rum will do that," he muttered.

With a nod to his comrade, he began making his way to the bakery. He was starving and in desperate need of something besides alcohol in his system.

Nearly there, he was slightly surprised to hear his name.

As he turned, he came very near to toppling right over and gave a curse as he knocked his head against the post.

Upon seeing who had called out to him, he rolled his eyes with the suppression to turn on his heel and continue to his destination. The thought that he most likely would never make it there without injuring himself further added to his decision to stay put.

"Perfect," he mumbled.

Abraham released Katrina's arm to place a hand to his shoulder to steady him.

"I told you to watch yourself last night."

Shrugging Abraham's hand off, he instead balanced himself on a nearby barrel.

"Just how many bottles did you consume?"

Decidedly annoyed with his preset company, he rolled his eyes again. "I lost count."

He gestured between them whilst doing his best to hold himself up. "Aren't you supposed to be consummating yourselves or something?"

She was staring at him in shock, but he found himself unable to care as his mood was far too foul to worry over anyone else's feeling but his own at the moment.

"Katrina's not feeling well. So, we've come to town to acquire sustenance."

"Perfect," he mumbled.

"I must say, Ichabod, I thought I knew you to be a better drunk."

Gritting his teeth, he glared at Abraham. "The things you don't know about me are innumerable, my friend."

The fool laughed, actually thinking he was joking.

"Come, join us for dinner."

He glanced to Katrina, but as soon as their eyes met, her gaze quickly fell to his boots.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on the happy newlyweds."

Abraham grabbed his arm. "Nonsense! Let's sober you up."

With a sigh, he allowed himself to be pulled away, not that he had the energy to resist.

* * *

As they sat around the table, Ichabod felt his mind clearing at the concoction Katrina had mixed for him, reality finally beginning to set in.

"What are your plans now, Ichabod?" asked Abraham. "Do you intend to remain in Sleepy Hollow much longer?"

"No."

Abraham frowned. "No? But our missions for the Commander have ceased for the time being. Where else would you go?"

"Anywhere but here," he mumbled.

"Have you grown tired of our small town already?"

Catching Katrina's eyes, he answered lowly, "I just need to be somewhere else."

There were so many things in those green eyes of hers. With his senses returning to him, he found himself feeling ashamed of his actions the night before and this morning. He'd been completely disrespectful and inconsiderate toward her.

"I wish you would stay," replied Abraham. "I so enjoy your company. Besides, now that I'm married, we need to set about finding you a wife of your own."

Sighing, he lifted a glass of water to his lips as his eyes, once again, found hers. She bore no outward expression other than the small smile she maintained, but he didn't need a reaction. He knew exactly what she was feeling.

"I'm afraid I'm not in the market for a wife at this time, Abraham."

Abraham chuckled. "Don't be absurd, Ichabod. You must find a wife as soon as possible. With your level of intelligence and skill, it would be a crime not to bring children into the world." He cast a glance to Katrina. "Katrina and I are already trying and we've not been married a full day."

Another tight smile crept over her mouth as she gave a quick glance to him. "Abraham, I'm sure Ichabod doesn't care to hear this."

Abraham shot her an annoyed look, while maintaining an outwardly polite smile for the rest of the building. "Don't speak for Ichabod, Katrina. He'll let me know if he doesn't wish to hear what I'm saying."

Her eyes fell to the table, a defeated expression filling her features.

Anger filled him. "I don't wish to hear what you're saying, Abraham. Perhaps you should take into consideration your wife's thoughts. It would go far in adjusting some of your rather irritating habits."

Abraham stared at him in shock as Katrina's jaw flexed almost imperceptibly with a smile.

After a moment of silence passed over the table, Abraham spoke. "Perhaps the next time drinks are served, you should take into consideration declining, Ichabod. Your drunken nature is rather disturbing in its overactive imagination."

Rolling his eyes, he lifted his glass again.

"Would you give me a moment? I must speak with the owner about his lack of service."

Ever into business, Abraham left them alone at the table.

With a glance to Abraham as he moved to the other side of the diner, he rose from his seat and moved to occupy Abraham's seat next to her.

As he attempted to find a start to his apology, he observed her as she stared at the table cloth before her.

"I am so sorry," he said quietly.

Her jaw was shifting back and forth and he knew she was holding it all in; whether it was anger or sadness, however, escaped him.

"There's no excuse for my behavior. I just... I didn't want to think about it. So, I got myself so out of sorts that I wouldn't have to."

She still wouldn't look at him.

Glancing around, he knew no one could see his hands as he slid one into hers.

She attempted to pull it away, but he gripped her tightly, refusing to allow her to.

"I know you didn't ask for this, nor did you want it. I acted as though I were the one who was suffering when it was you who was being forced into marriage. I was acting childish while you were..." He couldn't stand her not looking at him. "Katrina, please..."

"Stop apologizing." Finally, she turned to him, her eyes swimming with emotion. "You have no idea-" Her voice cut off. "I thought about you the entire time. I tried to block him out and only see you, but I..."

She looked down to their entwined hands. He hadn't noticed it before, but she had his sapphire clutched in her palm. As she allowed it to slip slightly, he saw the angry red indention of it, as if she'd held onto it too tightly.

"I wanted you with me. I thought if I could just have a piece of you with me, it would be ok."

Frowning, he glanced around once more, before looking back at her. "He didn't-he didn't hurt you, did he? I swear if he did, I'll kill him."

She shook her head. "No, he was... I would have preferred him to hurt me."

"Don't say that. You don't wish that."

She wouldn't look at him. "Yes, I do. He... he wasn't cruel, nor was he kind. He was just there. But I...he still attempted to... he made me..."

Her words fell away as her gaze darted about the room frantically.

His breathing slowed as realization dawned on him. "Oh."

Her eyes finally came to his. "Please, don't hate me."

Releasing her hand, he leaned against the table with his head in his hands.

She'd enjoyed it.

"Ichabod, I didn't mean to...I didn't want..." A low sob fell from her. "I couldn't stop it."

His eyes fell closed, his vision having begun to swim. "I have to leave. I can't stay here. I can't be here with you and him. I'll either murder him, or kill myself."

"I'm so sorry."

Swallowing hard, he looked back to her and said the only thing he could.

"I love you."

She looked as broken as he felt. "I love you, too. More than anything."

"Don't apologize."

"Ichabod-"

His hand grabbed hers again. "Don't. Abraham is...despite his flaws, he's a good man and I believe, in his own way, he loves you. At least, he does to the best of his ability."

That ability, however, was severely lacking, but that didn't need to be said.

"I don't love him. I never have. My heart belongs to you, Ichabod. It always will."

He couldn't help but smile at her. She was so beautiful.

After taking a moment to once again etch her into his memory, he squeezed her hand that was holding the jewel.

"Do you remember when I gave this to you?"

"Yes."

"After you got on that boat, I thought my world had ended. I threw myself at my mother and cried for three solid days." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "But it didn't. Life went on. I didn't like it and I felt completely alone, but I lived. And thirteen years later, I got on a similar ship to the one that I thought had ended any happiness I could ever have and I came here." He smiled. "Then, I found you. My lost happiness returned and the world seemed bright once more."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Katrina, you're life isn't over. Believe me, I know it feels as though it is, but you have so much to live for." It tore at his heart to say it, but he had to. "You can have a child."

"No," she said with a firm shake of her head. "I won't give him a child, no matter what he thinks."

"Then, don't. Give yourself one."

Her face filled with a frown. "You can't want that, Ichabod."

"I want you to be happy," he admitted quietly.

She shook her head. "I have my coven and the world to protect. I don't need happiness."

Squeezing her hand, he sighed. "_I_ need you to have happiness."

"So you won't feel guilty for leaving me?" she asked accusingly.

"So my world won't end again."

Her eyes left his to rest on their hands, the jewel still in her palm. "I won't promise to do it."

"Promise me you'll at least try," he pleaded desperately. "Please, my love."

After a moment, her green eyes returned to his once more. "My love for you will never cease, Ichabod."

With another gentle squeeze to her hand, he whispered, "Nor mine for you."


	18. Chapter 18

**1778 (28 yrs old) (5 years later)**

"Well, that was difficult."

"Would you get down before you get your head blown off?" he shouted as another blast sent debris flying in all directions.

"Well, Crane, I must say, this was a brilliant idea."

"Shh," he hushed. "Wait for the next shot and while they're reloading, we'll head for the river."

"The river? Are you mad? It's freezing!"

"Well, Thomas, you're welcome to stay and see if they're willing to negotiate."

The boy acted as though he were thinking about it when the next round fired. Before he had even risen, Thomas was already a good five feet ahead of him.

It was only a couple of yards, but their enemy had reloaded quicker than he had predicted and were already firing on them once more. As the bark of trees bit into his skin at the enemy's near hits, he leapt and suddenly found himself immersed in the freezing water.

The shock of the icy depths took a moment to overcome, but seeing Thomas already half way across propelled him forward as he swam after him.

"Thanks for waiting," he mumbled as he pulled himself out of the water.

Thomas threw him an irritated look. "I'm too cold to argue with you. Now that we've escaped the bullets, we're going to freeze to death."

"Calm down," he said as he began walking.

"Calm down?! This is insanity. Why did I volunteer? I'll tell you why! I thought it'd be kind of fun and maybe, just maybe, I'd meet a pretty girl. But no, instead, I'm stuck with you."

"Thomas, would you please shut up?"

"Seeing as how I'm about to die a slow, frozen death, I think I'll keep going," he went on. "This is all your fault. You know I've never even been with a girl? That's right. Never. I've never drank either. My mother would kill me herself all because you'd told her. So, I haven't done it. And now, I'll never get the chance, all because you thought it'd be a good idea to jump in the freezing cold river in the middle of nowhere." Thomas threw his hands up. "We're going to die out here and our bodies will never be found. We'll be eaten by starving anim-"

"Thomas!" Ichabod shouted, spinning on the boy. As he held up a hand and pointed, the boy followed his hand to the steeple in the distance.

"A church?"

"A town."

With that, he resumed his trek, picking up his pace. If they remained in these clothes too much longer, they'd surely die a 'slow, frozen death' as Thomas had so eloquently put it.

"What town is that?"

"Sleepy Hollow," Ichabod answered, with some measure of dread.

He hadn't been back here in five years. The war had taken him far and wide in his missions for the General, but his requests to not be sent to Sleepy Hollow had always been granted.

After their wedding, Abraham had taken to different tasks. Thankfully, those tasks hadn't included returning as his partner. That duty had fallen to Thomas West, a young man of eighteen from a small town in Pennsylvania. He was a smart enough boy. However, Thomas' mouth did have a tendency to run over time, often resulting in his own desire to knock the boy upside the head just to achieve some peace and quiet.

His lack of appearances in Sleepy Hollow wasn't to say he hadn't seen the reason for his avoidance of the town. She'd made various appearances at camp. He'd also seen her at a few coven meetings that he'd been near enough to attend, the war bringing more evil to the colonies than previously imaginable. They never spoke, though. If they needed information passed to each other, Alfred would tend to it. It was simply easier that way.

At times during their encounters, he'd feel her gaze on him, but she would quickly glance away just as soon as their eyes met. Her hasty turn never stopped him from catching the longing in her eyes and something else. It almost seemed like guilt, but try as he may, he never could understand why.

There was one time, though, three years prior,

_"Katrina?"_

_She turned to him with a slightly startled expression._

_"Y-yes?"_

_He gave an apologetic smile. "I heard about your father's passing and I just wanted to offer my condolences."_

_With a small sigh, she shook her head. "Thank you. He passed quickly."_

_"His heart?"_

_"Yes," she whispered softly, her eyes on her hands._

_Nodding, he shifted nervously. "I'm very sorry. I know he was the last of your family."_

_There was something in the way she glanced up and stared at him for a moment, but then it passed just as quickly as it had appeared._

_"I have other family."_

_With a nod, he quickly spoke. "Of course... Abraham." He paused for a moment. "How is he?"_

_"He's Abraham."_

_The way she said it left little to his imagination. It would seem she had no more love for her husband now than when he last spoke to her._

_As her green eyes bore into his, he felt himself beginning to get lost in them._

_He knew if he allowed this conversation to linger too much longer, he would lose himself in her completely. _

_"Yes, well," he began, nervously shifting his feet. "It was lovely to see you."_

_As he turned to leave, he was halted by her hand grasping his._

_"Ichabod..." She paused. "There's-There's something I need to tell you."_

_Frowning at her nervous expression, he turned fully toward her. "Katrina, what is it?"_

_"I-"_

_"Katrina, are you coming?" Alfred's voice broke through._

_At the Reverend's voice, her hand fell from him immediately, almost as if she'd been burned._

_"Yes," she said with a nod before moving toward the Reverend._

_"Katrina...?"_

_She took a moment before she glanced back to him, her face a cloud of swirling emotion._

_With a small smile, she caught his eyes. "It was really good to see you again, Ichabod." _

_Then, she was gone._

He'd went over that conversation at least a hundred times. Her gaze. Her mannerisms. Everything.

It had truly seemed as if she had something of import to share with him, but then she'd departed so quickly.

That had been the one and only time they spoken in the past five years.

She still protected him from a distance, though.

He found he was rarely without a witch or warlock near. Alfred was usually the one who accompanied him under the guise of ministering to the soldiers, which he did quite well. He couldn't begin to repay the man for all the protection he'd offered him through the years.

"Have you ever been here before?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, I suppose if I had to name a place home, this would be it."

No matter their circumstances, she would always be his home.

As they entered the town, he and Thomas stumbled into the square. It didn't take long for some men to gather them up and carry them to the infirmary.

"Ichabod." It was Alfred. "What happened?"

"We were ambushed across the river."

He winced as they adjusted him onto a cot.

The Reverend nodded his understanding as he stepped back and they began to peel his soaked clothes from his body. Even half frozen, he could hear Thomas in the next bed flirting, rather poorly, with one of the nurses.

"You've been shot!" Alfred exclaimed as he placed a hand next to the hole in his side.

"It's nothing, Reverend."

He really didn't feel much as the cold had numbed him some time ago.

"Hardly," Alfred muttered.

The nurse tending him spoke. "If you'd delayed much longer you'd have bled out."

They fussed over him for what felt like hours when, suddenly, the door to the infirmary flew open.

Lifting his head to see who was in such a hurry, he felt his heart stop.

He looked to Alfred.

"You sent for her, didn't you?"

"Yes, he did," she answered, out of breath.

When she reached his side, she lifted the towel covering his wound before looking to the nurse beside her and biting out, "Move."

"But-"

"I said to move," she interrupted in a dangerous tone. "Go and find someone else to butcher. You're finished here."

The nurse looked back and forth between them. "He's my patient. You don't even work here."

The nurse obviously wasn't noticing Katrina's nearly murderous expression.

It was Alfred who thankfully broke the tension. "Lydia, I believe Susan needs some help with Ichabod's young companion."

Glancing past the two women, he saw Thomas sitting up, seemingly fine.

With a huff, Lydia turned and headed to assist.

The young woman had barely moved before Katrina was already tending his wound, her eyes darting all about him.

"Why are you wet?

Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "I went for a swim."

After Alfred quickly explained the series of events to her, she directed her glare at him.

"You jumped in the river!?"

He honestly hadn't thought her voice could hit that high of a pitch.

"That's what I said!" exclaimed Thomas from across the room.

Throwing an irritated look at Thomas, he sighed. "It was our only option for survival."

"You shouldn't have been alone without protection in the first place." She threw her glare to Alfred. "You were supposed to be watching him."

Alfred held up a hand. "I was called back to town for a funeral. I was going to return to the encampment at first light."

Her eyes narrowed. "I ordered you to keep him in your sight at all times. I trusted you with his protection, Alfred. Obviously, it was a misplaced trust."

"It's fine, Katrina," he whispered. "It's not his fault."

"It's not fine!" she bit out. "You're too important."

Now, his anger was surfacing. He was tired of being coddled. "I'm no more important than any other man fighting this war."

She clenched her jaw and yanked his bandage off causing pain to shoot through him. It hurt worse than the actual bullet.

"Katrina!"

Thomas chuckled. "What's wrong, Crane? Can't handle a beautiful woman roughing you up?"

Rolling his eyes for what he swore was the hundredth time that day, he gritted out, "Thomas, if you don't shut up, I'm going to shoot you myself!"

"Fiinne."

When he returned his gaze to her, he saw her share a look with Alfred before the man nodded and turned to the other nurse.

"Ms.? Might we have some privacy? Mr. Crane would like to make a confession." At the young girls alarmed look, he elaborated, "Just in case. I'm sure there's no danger, but he'd like to be safe all the same."

Thomas was at his side before Alfred finished his sentence.

"Are you dying, Crane? Cause if you are, I have a couple confessions to make myself. That flask of rum that you lost, well, I might have stolen it. I didn't drink it," he quickly explained, his eyes wide. "As I've never drank, still your fault. I just didn't think it was fair that you could and I couldn't. So, I poured it out. And that-"

"I'm not dying, Thomas," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"You're not?"

"No," he said with a glance at his young friend. "I swear as soon as I get out of here, I'll buy you a drink and find you a pretty girl so that you'll quit talking about not having ever been with one, but only if you shut up and get out."

Thomas seemed slightly speechless. "Of course. Yeah, I'll do that."

He started to walk away, but, of course, his moment of speechlessness ended as he moved back to stand next to Katrina. "He's lying, you know. Must be the blood loss. I've been with a girl and-"

"Thomas!"

"I'm going. I'm going," he said quickly.

As the room finally cleared of everyone but Alfred and Katrina, he rested his head back against the cot and watched as she waved a hand over his wound.

"This is going to hurt."

He raised an eyebrow. "Try not to enjoy it too much."

At her glare, he felt her magic's warmth begin to fill him. His eyes slammed shut as the bullet tore from his body and dropped into her hand. As the blinding pain coursed through him, he cursed as his body went rigid, his fists clenching the sides of the cot beneath him.

"Remember not to heal him completely," Alfred warned.

"I know, Alfred," she said in an annoyed tone. "This isn't the first time I've done this."

"It was just a reminder. I know how you are when it comes to hi-"

The man's words cut off, but as his eyes were clenched shut, he could only imagine the look she must have thrown him. She always been very talented at that.

"Katrina..." he whispered, cracking his eyes open slightly.

When her gaze fell to his, it softened as she laid a hand on his cheek. "Just breathe. It's alright."

The warmth of her magic spread through him once more, furling and unfurling within him.

After a moment, his pain lessened considerably, finally allowing him to release the breath he'd been holding.

"That's as much as I can heal it for now. We can't have the nurses running around town shouting about your miraculous recovery."

He nodded his understanding.

"Well, I believe I'll go recover your young friend."

Glancing at Alfred, he raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you could cast some sort of spell to seal his mouth? I'd be very grateful."

With a chuckle, Alfred departed.

Turning his gaze back to her, he found her fingering a scar to his shoulder.

"What happened?"

Her voice was the softest it'd been since she arrived.

"Knife," he answered quietly.

Her gaze made its way to his and she shook her head. "You're lying."

Sighing, he dropped his eyes from hers to the scar. "It was a demon. Some sort of clawed...thing. Alfred destroyed it."

"Not soon enough."

His eyes found hers again as his hand slid over hers, threading their fingers together.

"Katrina, I'm fine. I promise. You know I'd never keep something serious from you."

An emotion he couldn't place passed over her face before she leaned forward and placed a kiss to the scar, sending sensations over him he'd not felt in some time.

After a moment of her gentle caress, she lifted her head to catch his eyes. "I can heal it."

Bringing a hand up to run through her red hair, he whispered, "It's alright. A soldiers' supposed to have a few scars."

With a shake of her head, she placed a kiss to the hand that was holding hers. "I don't like it when you're hurt. It makes me go slightly mad."

He smiled. "I noticed."

The feel of her warm breath as it brushed against his face drew his eyes and the urge to feel her soft lips on his began to overtake him.

The sudden clearing of a throat, however, caused her to bolt upright and spin to find Alfred and Thomas standing in the door way.

"Oh, I get it now," Thomas said in a knowing voice. "You just wanted some privacy. Why didn't you just say so, Crane?"

"Thomas-"

He pointed at the door. "I mean, I can just go back out into the freezing night air if you'd like."

"Thomas-"

"I suppose a pretty girl is worth having your friend freeze to death over."

Picking up a nearby pillow, he threw it at Thomas, but the boy simply caught it with a falsely surprised look.

"What'd I say?"

Alfred stepped forward, taking the pillow from Thomas and setting it back down. "Why don't the two of you get some rest? Katrina?"

"Someone should stay with them," she said quickly.

Alfred looked between the two of them, his eyes admonishing him for a moment before settling on her. "I believe the nurses can do that. It is_ their_ job after all."

Seemingly defeated, she turned to him. "I hope you feel better."

With a nod, he whispered, "Thank you."

Her eyes remained fixed on him, darting about his face. "Ichabod, I need to talk to you before you return to camp."

"Is everything alright?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Alfred's voice interrupted her.

"Katrina?"

Eyes falling closed, she sighed before turning to the door.

Upon reaching it, she glanced back with a last small smile before departing with Alfred.

"So, is that your girl?"

Rolling his eyes, he fell back against the cot and brought his pillow over his head, sure this visit to Sleepy Hollow would be the death of him.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day, he felt recovered enough to take a walk through town and Thomas, it seemed, felt it his duty to accompany him in case he 'fainted'.

"I'm not going to faint, Thomas, nor will I pass out," he muttered, annoyed.

"Don't worry, Crane," Thomas said, with a pat to his shoulder. "I've got your back."

The boy was out to drive him mad. He was sure of it. He'd been up and rambling since the crack of dawn with no signs of ceasing any time in the near future.

He'd honestly wanted some time to himself to work out his emotions. Since seeing her the night before, he hadn't been able to get her image out of his head, not that it ever really went away, but it seemed to be there in full force as he attempted to gain some rest.

The nightmares had never ceased in his years away from her, but the night before had been particularly vivid in its torment.

Usually, he simply recalled childhood memories in his dreams, all their mischievous activities they'd gotten themselves tangled up in, well, that she'd gotten him tangled up in.

The nightmare the previous night had been nothing of the sort, however.

He'd been with her, just the two of them. They were happy in their own small world of bliss, but then Alfred had appeared, echoing the warning from her wedding day. The next thing he knew, Katrina was torn from him, her coven having taken her away while he was thrust into his role as the Witness without his protector there to guide him. He'd awoken in a cold sweat as her calls for him had began to echo around him.

With a sigh, he brought a hand to his eyes attempting to stomp the nightmare from his mind and focus on the day before him.

As they ventured about the streets, he took it all in. The town had changed quite a bit in his absence. New businesses had arisen. More people had moved in. It would seem things had simply kept on moving forward after his departure.

Rounding a street, he came up short at the sight before him and attempted to backtrack, but found it was useless.

"Ichabod Crane." He cursed beneath his breath as he turned. "It's been a long time, old friend."

Conjuring his best smile, he nodded. "Abraham."

"What brings you to town?"

"He was shot," Thomas offered.

Casting a glare in Thomas' direction, the boy simply shrugged.

"Shot? Are you well?"

Abraham laid a hand to his shoulder as he looked him over, seemingly concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine," he answered reassuringly. "It was relatively minor."

Abraham smiled, a relieved expression coming to his face. "That's good news. I'm heading to a meeting, but you and your friend should join me for lunch at the house."

His eyebrows shot up slightly. "Oh, we couldn't-"

"That sounds great!" Thomas interrupted, quite excitedly.

"Wonderful," Abraham exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I look forward to catching up."

As soon as Abraham was out of earshot, he grabbed Thomas by the arm, more than ready to strangle the boy. "Why did you agree to that?"

"Because I'm starving and haven't had a proper meal in months. That's why."

Sighing, he released him.

Lovely. A lunch with the von Brunt's, just what he needed to brighten his day.

* * *

Standing outside the Old von Brunt home, he found that he felt positively ill. For the past hour since bumping into Abraham, he'd felt his dread steadily growing in its intensity. The idea that he was about to enter their home, the one they shared together, was too much for him to bear. He didn't need any more nightmares to accompany his already restless sleep.

Nearly ready to turn to Thomas and tell him he knew plenty of other people they could eat a proper meal with, he heard his name.

"Ichabod, you're here. Wonderful."

Turning at Abraham's voice, he found him walking through the gate and felt his escape plan crumble before him.

"Katrina will be so pleased to learn you're back in town."

Frowning at the man, he asked, "She doesn't know we're here for lunch?"

"Oh, no, I haven't had time to tell her." Thomas made a small noise of dissatisfaction. "Don't worry young man, there'll be plenty of food. We have an excellent cook."

"Great!"

Thomas' relief was evident.

With a sigh, he followed Abraham into the house and removed his coat.

Despite his still present dread, he couldn't help but chuckle at Thomas's mouth, which was hanging slightly ajar at the lavish house.

About to remark on his expression, he was halted, however, as Katrina entered the room.

"Abraham? Who's with you-"

When her eyes caught sight of him, the book she was holding dropped to the floor.

"Katrina!" Abraham scolded.

He noticed her give a small flinch before a thin smile covered her face as she quickly recovered her lost book. "I'm sorry. I just... wasn't expecting company."

Thomas pointed a finger at her. "Hey, you're-"

He quickly slapped Thomas' hand down and stepped forward to take hers.

Placing a kiss upon it, he smiled. "It's wonderful to see you again, Katrina." Turning back to a confused Thomas, he explained, "This is my comrade, Thomas West. Thomas, this is Katrina von Brunt. Abraham's _wife_."

Praying the boy understood, he watched him frown, then raise his eyebrows as if he had finally unraveled a mystery. "Ohhh."

He rolled his eyes as Thomas nearly tripped over himself moving to bow before her.

"It's nice to meet you," Thomas said as he gave a small smirk.

Abraham stepped forward and patted Thomas on the back. "Well, I do believe this young man mentioned something about starvation." He glanced to Katrina. "See to it, Katrina."

She hesitantly nodded before quickly turning and pushing through a nearby door.

As they moved into the dining room, Thomas leaned close. "So, not really your girl, huh?"

Ignoring Thomas, he observed Katrina. He'd never seen her act like this. She looked as if she were about to have a nervous breakdown.

After she returned from the kitchen, she sat down across from him, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

When she jumped up, she knocked over her chair as well.

"Katrina, have you lost all sense?" Abraham bit out admonishingly. "What is the matter with you?"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly with a glance to Abraham. "I-I'll just go-I'll get something to clean this up."

She nearly tripped walking to the kitchen.

Abraham turned to them, perplexed. "I haven't the slightest idea what's wrong with her. She's usually more graceful than this. Though, I suppose I can't blame her. She wasn't exactly brought up to serve guests properly. It was almost a mercy to marry her. I'm afraid the years haven't improved her skill."

Clenching his teeth, he chose not to respond, fearing he might knock Abraham right out of his chair.

Katrina returned. "Lunch will be served momentarily."

"So," Abraham spoke. "Ichabod, how are things on the battlefront?"

"Progressing slowly, I'm afraid. Thomas and I were just passing through delivering some documents when we were attacked."

Thomas grunted. "It's all Crane's fault. He refused to pass through this town, so we bypassed it and took to the other side of the river where we met our lovely friends."

Eyes sliding closed for a minute, he opened them and caught her stare. It was a mixture somewhere between hurt and confusion.

"Why ever would you do that?" asked Abraham.

"I simply thought it would be easier. Venturing through town would have held us up." He slid his eyes to her again. "There are too many people to get caught up with here, too many distractions."

Her gaze fell to her hands hidden in her lap.

After that, they ate and continued with talk of the war and politics until the sound of the front door opening and closing met his ears followed immediately by Katrina jerking and once again knocking her glass over.

Abraham gave her a scathing glare, then turned to him with a broad smile, his demeanor changing completely in a matter of moments.

"Ah, I can't wait for you to meet them, Ichabod."

He was confused. "Meet who?"

In answer to his question, a young boy and girl ran into the room, bypassing Abraham completely and flying at Katrina.

The girl squealed, "Mama, look what we found!"

At the girl's words, he felt his breathing halt completely.

She had children, two of them.

As the children showed their new discovery to Katrina, Abraham stood. "Come here, children. I want to introduce you to an old friend of mine."

The boy wouldn't part from Katrina's side, but the girl bolted forward immediately.

Abraham gestured to the boy. "This is my son, William. He's unfortunately, extremely attached to his mother, a trait of his I'll soon rectify."

He said it with a small amount of disdain to which Katrina glanced up to him, her own disdain consuming her features.

Clearing his throat as a means of attempting to rid himself of his shock, he offered a smile to the boy who was peeking at him from beneath his long bangs. The moment their eyes met, the boy quickly turned into Katrina, hiding his face in her hair.

Abraham diverted his attention to the girl, but she'd already made her way around the table to his side.

Rising, he accepted the small girl's hand as she thrust it out to him.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and bowed to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I'm Ichabod Crane and what's your name?"

Smiling proudly, she pulled her hand back. "Cassie von Brunt."

The smile he'd forced to his face faded almost immediately, a memory of Katrina declaring Cassie to be there imaginary daughter's name flashing in his mind. This girl wasn't far from that little one's description. Bright red hair, pale skin. Even the blue eyes.

The ability to breathe left him completely.

"Crane, you alright there?"

Jumping at Thomas's voice, he came back to the present. "Yes. I'm- I'm fine."

As he took his seat, he found his gaze wandering to her pale face, finding her avoiding his eyes.

"You have beautiful children, Abraham," he whispered, doing his best to find his breath.

He kept his gaze on her as he said it, but she was keeping her attention firmly planted on her son.

"Thank you, Ichabod," Abraham said proudly.

"Are they twins?"

Thomas's question caught him off guard. He hadn't noticed how close in age they appeared, having been to overwhelmed by the fact that they existed at all.

"They are. Born just over four years ago."

"We were tiny," said Cassie as she picked at her mother's plate of food.

"Yes. Premature," Abraham continued with a withering glance at Cassie, who sat back immediately in her chair, ceasing her eating. "We were quite worried when Katrina went into labor two months early."

Katrina's eyes finally left her son to rest on Abraham, her gaze displaying discomfort in the extreme. "Abraham, I'm sure they don't care to hear this."

"Nonsense, Katrina. Everyone loves this story. It was a miracle."

"A miracle?" Thomas was clearly intrigued as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Yes," Abraham replied. "You see, it's quite normal for twins to come early, but William and Cassie were considerably early. I was so thrilled over learning I was to be a father and so quickly. Why, Katrina and I had only been married for a short seven months when they were born."

Thomas whistled at that, but all Ichabod did was stare, stare and think, as his mind darted in all sorts of directions.

The girl was the spitting image of Katrina, save the blue eyes which Ichabod had attributed to Abraham, but the boy was another story. While he had his mother's less prominent features, he possessed a full head of dark hair and piercing blue eyes. His skin wasn't as pale as his sisters and the longer he stared at him, the harder it became for him to breathe.

To make things worse, Katrina was still avoiding his eyes, which was making him furious.

Abraham's voice brought him out of his stupor. "Ichabod? Is everything alright? You're bleeding."

Not understanding, he followed Abraham's concerned gaze down to his hand and saw that he was clutching his dinner knife so tightly he had sliced his palm open. The blood was pouring profusely.

"I-"

He hadn't even noticed.

Abraham waved a hand. "Katrina, take Ichabod to the kitchen and help him."

She was already up and taking his arm before Abraham even finished his command.

When they reached the kitchen, he did his best to sort his thoughts as she poured some water into a basin and set about washing the blood away.

"It's a deep cut, but I can heal it enough that-"

Her voice brought him to the present.

Jerking his hand away, he pointed a finger at her. "_Don't_!"

She was finally looking at him and he saw the truth in every inch of her features.

"Ichabod, please, I need to heal you," she whispered, reaching for his hand.

"Do you think me a fool, Katrina?"

All the anger he had within him had risen to the surface.

Her body tensed as she shook her head. "No, of course not."

As he took a step toward her, she took one back.

"Tell me," he whispered darkly.

"Ichabod..."

He kept moving toward her and she kept stepping backward until she hit the counter.

Less than a foot from her, he placed his hands on each side of the cabinet, trapping her in his arms.

"Tell me what I should have heard from you five years ago."

Her eyes fell closed and he could see her tears beginning to seep out. "Ichabod, please-"

His hands slammed against the counter causing her to jump and open her eyes, the pain in his hand a distant memory.

"I have loved you all this time, remained faithful to you, a married woman. I've never even looked at another. How could you keep this from me? Me, Katrina!?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to tell you. I tried-"

"You tried? I don't recall that conversation, nor do I recall a mention that you even had children in the first place."

"If I had told you that you were going to be a father, you never would have left. You have a destiny -"

"Don't you dare," he whispered heatedly.

"Dare what?" she asked, seemingly finding her own temper. "Give you the same excuse you gave me on my wedding day? When you refused to run away with me? I begged you."

He pointed a finger at her. "That is not the same thing and you know it."

"You would have thrown your destiny away to be with me and our children. Don't deny it, Ichabod."

He couldn't refute her. He knew he would have done just that, but that should have been his choice to make.

"I trusted you," he whispered, dejectedly. "I thought you loved me."

Her expression fell as she reached to place a hand against his face. "Ichabod-"

"Hey, Crane. Are you- oh!"

At Thomas's entrance, he quickly stepped away from her and turned to Thomas, who was looking between them oddly.

With a frustrated sigh, he glanced back at her, her tears doing little to move him.

"This discussion isn't over, Katrina."

Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed a towel for his hand as he exited, gave Abraham an excuse, then practically stomped from the house. His mind was full and he just wanted to find a quiet place to sort through it.

Leaving Thomas back at the inn, he sought refuge in the only place he knew to go.

When he finally made it to his destination, he felt like he'd just run a mile as he collapsed under the familiar tree, allowing his gaze to wander out over the stones.

He could still see them so clearly. His son and daughter. They were more beautiful than anything he could have imagined.

Feeling his heart constrict at the thought that he had children, children who knew nothing of him, he brought his knees up, leaning his elbows to them so he could prop his head in his hands.

He simply could not wrap his mind around it. A son and a daughter. With Katrina.

It wasn't possible.

Neither was it possible that she could have kept this from him. The thought that she'd ever betray him in such a way was too much to bear.

As the cold began to numb his body, he finally released the sob that had been building within him.

She'd lied to him, betrayed him.

The thought that her love for him was not as true as his for her began to eat away at him, gnawing at and tormenting his very soul.

How he wished the cold would numb his heart and mind as it had already done to his body.


	20. Chapter 20

He knew not how long he'd been sitting there, lost in his thoughts. It was late now, the sun sinking below the tress surrounding the cemetery, leaving him colder than when he'd arrived.

His entire evening had been spent sitting in a cloud of confusion and rage. The longer he dwelled upon his situation, the greater his anger grew.

A branch snapping to his left brought him defensively to his feet.

When his gaze fell on her, he shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "I have nothing to say to you."

"But I have plenty to say to you," she snapped back.

"Katrina-"

"If you're going to judge me," she cut in. "At least have all the facts while you're doing it."

Anger consumed him. "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I want _nothing_ to do with you. So, please, just this once, leave me alone, Katrina."

For a moment, he thought she might give in. She certainly looked defeated enough to flee to some unknown area to sob. Normally, that would have concerned him greatly, the idea of his beloved Katrina so distraught, but not this night. No. This night, she was the bearer of one of his worst nightmares. The one person in the world he'd always thought would be on his side had betrayed him.

"Please, just...just talk to me." She paused as she glanced down to her hands. "I'm not here to plead my case. I know I'm in the wrong. What I did was despicable and selfish, but I did do it, Ichabod. I'm sorry you found out the way that you did, but..." Her eyes were back on him. "We share two children and we need to discuss it before you once again leave."

It was the way she spoke of his leaving that let him into her innermost thoughts on the subject. It was quite obvious she was still bitter over his leaving her five years earlier.

"Don't do that," he whispered.

A frown came to her face. "Do what?"

"_Don't_!" he bit out. "I had every right to leave you. Would you honestly have expected me to stay as you lived out your life with him?" She moved to speak, but he held up a hand. "Is that something you, yourself, would have done had our situations been reversed?"

The darting of her eyes out over the graves showed her sudden discomfort. "You're right."

At her admission, he brought a hand to his eyes attempting to calm himself down.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

She released a heavy sigh. "Regardless of what you now think of me, Ichabod, I still know you."

With a huff, he slid back down the tree. "I don't know what I think anymore."

After a moment, the lower part of her dress and boots came into view.

"May I sit with you?" Knowing he couldn't avoid a conversation with her, he nodded, but refused to look at her as she sat next to him. "You're freezing out here."

"I'll survive," he mumbled, even as a shiver took control of his body.

She shifted closer to him, hesitantly laying her hand over his, her magic immediately spreading through his body, warming him to his core.

"I'd really appreciate it if you refrained from touching me."

He didn't say it in a rude or angry manner, just a defeated one. He was too tired to put any more effort into rebuking her.

As her hand slid from him, he closed his eyes, already missing her touch.

"I know you must think me a horrible person."

"No," he whispered. "I think you're someone who has a great deal of responsibility." Sighing, he turned to her to find her face bearing an untold story of grief and sorrow. "But that doesn't excuse-" He shook his head. "I've thought about it so many times, having children with you, that I almost feel as if this is another dream."

Her eyes fell to the ground. "When I-when I realized I was with child...I was so happy. All I wanted to do was find you, to share our miracle with you." Eyes slowly sliding back to his, she continued, "The knowledge that we created not one, but two babies, Ichabod. I thought I was imagining it."

He gave a small nod, the knowledge that she'd wanted him to know doing nothing for his still seething anger. "You tried to tell me after your father died, didn't you?"

"Yes," she answered quietly. "It was easier when I wasn't around you, but when you spoke to me...every desperate wish for you to know rushed to the surface."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged dejectedly. "Because I'm a coward. Even if Alfred hadn't interrupted, I doubt I would have actually told you."

"And last night? Is that what you wanted to talk about."

Her eyes danced over his face. "Yes, I wanted to tell you."

"Would you have?"

Another shrug escaped her as her gaze fell to her hands once more. "I've always known you finding out was only a matter of time and when you showed up here last night, I knew..."

"You knew someone would mention it, so you were biting the bullet in an attempt to make yourself look better," he finished bitterly.

"Yes," she whispered. "That's exactly what I was doing."

Nodding, he leaned back against the tree, his emotions no more clear than before.

A thought occurred to him as he glanced at her.

"Do they have magic?"

She gazed at him a moment before answering. "Yes."

He had magical children. Somehow, that was more odd than the knowledge that he was a Witness to the foretold Apocalypse who was in love with a witch.

"My coven doesn't know you're their father," she offered. "I don't allow them out much and when I do, it's never where they can be discovered."

"Why the secrecy? Does your infidelity to your betrothed matter that much?"

She flinched at his quip.

"William and Cassie have the potential to be extremely powerful one day. I can sense that perhaps they'll be even more powerful than me."

"You think it's because I'm the Witness," he stated, after a moment of thought.

She nodded. "I believe so."

Swallowing down his disbelief at the fact that his two small children might become more powerful than he, he paused to consider her words. "What would they do to them? Your coven?"

"They'd kill them."

His eyes shot to hers, but found her gaze was on her hands. "Kill them?"

"Or at least attempt to."

"They're just children," he said incredulously.

"They won't be forever," came her final whisper.

He felt anger coiling deep inside of him. "Fear of the unknown."

"Alfred warned me that my feelings for you would lead to dire consequences if I gave in. I just never thought it could be in the form of something as precious as our children."

"Katrina-"

"It's why I made myself marry, Abraham," she cut in, twisting her fingers in what had to be a painful manner. "I thought it would temper my love to make you untouchable, but that one moment of weakness-I was so selfish."

For a moment, he paused. "Does Alfred know?"

"I'm not sure," she whispered. "I think he might suspect, but he's never said anything and he doesn't know that we-no one knows."

Catching her eyes, he couldn't help but lean his forehead against hers.

He had thought his life was done being complicated. "They're so beautiful."

"They are."

He simply had to address it. "You named her Cassie."

Pulling back slightly, she caught his eyes and brought her hand up to his face. "The first time I held her, the red hair took me slightly by surprise, but when she opened her eyes and I saw yours staring back at me, I thought I was dreaming."

He wished more than anything he had that memory. He would give anything for it.

Seemingly reading his thoughts, she shook her head. "I'm so sorry, my love. I wanted you there so badly. You _deserved_ to be there."

"What happens, now? Am I supposed to simply leave and pretend I'm not a father?" Sighing, he went on, "Though, I suppose I'm really not. Abraham's their father."

She pulled herself closer to him, her warmth filling him again. "They're his possessions just as I am. We're his pretty ornaments to dangle before people. He never even acknowledges them beyond that." She shook her head again. "It doesn't bother Cassie too much. She's so independent. William, though...he's so tenderhearted. The slightest thing will cause him to close up completely."

Confusion swept through him. "Abraham must love them. He wanted children."

She shook her head. "He wanted a particular kind of child. A son who was like him." Her gaze came back to his. "William isn't that child, not in any way, shape, or form." Her hand reached up to stroke his face. "He is so like you."

The fact that he knew nothing of the traits his son shared with him caused his heart to constrict in both anger and longing.

"I am so angry with you," he whispered. "I want to hate you so desperately."

Her hand stilled as her gaze fell uncertainly, a devastated frown creasing her features.

"You kept my children from me, Katrina. Our children. That's something that cannot ever be undone. I'll never know them the way I should." With a deep breath, he slid his hand beneath her chin. "But you are woven so deeply into my heart." Green eyes on his, he whispered, "I still love you, Katrina."

"You do?" she asked timidly.

"Always, my love."

Her smile reached her eyes for the first time all day.

"Swear to me that you'll never keep anything from me again."

She nodded, her hand resuming its stroking along his face. "I swear."

"I want to know them," he admitted quietly.

"I want that to," she whispered, her eyes dancing about his face. "You couldn't possibly fathom how much I want you with us, for the four of us to be a family."

"Is that ever going to be possible?"

Her gaze paused on his, an expression of sorrow filling her features. "I honestly don't know."

With a nod, he leaned his forehead to hers.

It was an odd thing how closely love and hate ran. Despite his blinding rage at being a father, yet, because of her choices, knowing nothing of the matter at all, he still longed for her touch, for her souls connection with his. He longed for it in a way that had his breathing shallow and his heart beating wildly beneath his chest at the simple thought of touching her.

Leaning forward, he left his mouth only a breath from hers, allowing her the final choice. From his few observations of her life now, it was clear she didn't get many choices any longer. They'd all been completely stripped from her.

At his pause, however, she wasted no time in her decision to close the distance between them.

Her mouth collided with him, her soft lips sliding over his, their passion igniting quickly as their hands soon joined in their reacquainting with the other's body.

It was a strange sensation to be so warm whilst lying in snow, the perfect contradiction.

As she hovered over him, her mouth trailing along his heating skin, he considered how much he'd missed her through their many years of separation.

Soft eyes. Playful smiles. Gentle, yet demanding touches. It was all he'd thought about, dreamed about.

Now, though, as she gazed down at him with a mixture of all three, he prayed he'd never know such separation from her again.


	21. Chapter 21

The following morning, he'd had to force himself from his bed. The entire night he'd tossed and turned with his dilemma, only topped by his still aching side from his wound. Anger and frustration had ruled him, resulting in a substantial loss of sleep. Hurt and betrayal had been present as well, but not nearly as prevalent as the other two.

His mood as he had started out the day had been less than pleasant, which Thomas must have felt as he'd been silent since they'd left the inn to begin making their long journey back to camp. He felt slightly guilty for his shortness with the boy, but it simply could not be helped, though, not after last night's ending.

_"Let me heal your cut."_

_"No," he said with a chuckle._

_She'd been pestering him for the past five minutes._

_"Ichabod-"_

_"You don't have to heal every little pin prick, Katrina."_

_Grabbing his hand, she turned it over to look at his palm, taking in the long slash running across it. "That's considerably more than a pinprick."_

_Stopping his pace, he turned to her. "Stop worrying over it."_

_With a sigh, she stepped closer to him. "I just-" Her words broke off. _

_"You're trying to delay me," he offered with a small smile._

_Her eyes came up to meet his. "Is that so terrible of me? To want to spend a few more moments with you?"_

_Brushing a hand through her hair, he shook his head. "No, my love, it's not terrible at all."_

_She nodded before leaning into him and wrapping her arms about his middle._

_"I feel so weak, Ichabod," she whispered, her hands gripping his jacket._

_"Weak?" he asked with a slight frown. "Why do you feel weak?"_

_"Every time I see you, I have the overwhelming urge to touch you, to feel your love."_

_He pulled back from her, enough to catch her eyes. "And you think love makes you weak?"_

_She shook her head. "I think you make me weak. My ability to properly think of anything else when you're near completely leaves me. All I want is to be with you."_

_He frowned, unsure where this was heading._

_"What are you implying?"_

_Dropping her eyes just below his, she let out a shaky breath. "I can't concentrate on the bigger picture. Can you?"_

_"Katrina-"_

_"If you stay here," she hurried along. "I won't focus on my work and neither will you. We'll end up having an affair, which will lead us to being discovered."_

_"You can't be sure of that," he protested, desperate for a way to convince her._

_She released a shaky breath and gestured behind her. "Ichabod, we just made love out in plain view for anyone to stumble upon us. We don't think when we're together. What if we created another child? We took no precaution. And I can be sure that if we are discovered, my coven will root out William's and Cassie's true parentage. They will destroy them, Ichabod." She shook her head. "If they see us together, they'll know."_

_His breathing was increasing in its pace as she spoke. "You're telling me to leave. You're actually telling me to leave, now, after all that's happened."_

_"No," she whispered, her tears beginning to make their presence known. "I am begging you to leave."_

_"I have children, Katrina, children I have a right to know. You can't do this."_

_"I'm so sorry, but...you're too important. Both of our missions will be jeopardized if you remain here. You must know that."_

_"And that's it, then?" he asked heatedly. "I'm to know nothing of them because of the destiny you chose for me?"_

_Her hands tightened on his coat again. "I didn't choose this. I thought you understood how invaluable you are to the cause."_

_"The cause? Is the cause the only thing I'm to ever have?" He reached up to cup her face. "My love, please, it doesn't have to be this way."_

_"Don't do this," she whispered. "You're the one who was rational on my wedding day when I was ready to throw everything way. Our reasons for being apart have not changed."_

_Abruptly pulling from her, he turned and paced a few feet away from her. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands down his face as he thought about the ruin his life was in. His heart was heavy with sorrow as he looked back to her. She was standing there, looking completely broken and, for the first time, he found himself hating her. If he'd never met her, he'd still be with his family. Perhaps even have a family of his own. A wife he could be with any time he chose. In public. Children to teach and love. He wouldn't be out in the middle of nowhere. Swimming across freezing rivers. Being constantly attacked by demons and men alike. His heart wouldn't be broken, leaving him a shell of a man._

_"Ichabod?"_

_Her voice focused him back on her. Her uncertainty was visible, as was the internal torment she was experiencing._

_He didn't want to see that, though, not when his own heart was shattering. He needed her to be the enemy to make his next words true._

_"I'll be gone at first light."_

_Without another word, he turned and began to make his way back to the inn, leaving Katrina and every ounce of love he had behind him._

When they entered the trees surrounding Sleepy Hollow, they didn't get far in before they came across two hooded figures.

Thomas quickly reached for his pistol, but he stilled his hand, knowing exactly who was waiting for them.

Upon reaching the hooded figures, Alfred and Katrina removed their hoods.

The Reverend gave a pleasant smile. "Ichabod, I'll shall be accompanying you and young Thomas, here, back to your camp. I thought it would be safer for me to travel with two soldiers." He looked around in almost fearful way. "There's much danger about."

He knew the man was putting on a show for Thomas. He could take out the both of them without blinking an eye.

"What about her?"

Thomas raised a valid question to which Katrina bristled slightly. "I was keeping the Reverend company until your arrival."

Thomas regarded her a moment, looking between she and him. "No, you weren't." He stepped between them, almost blocking his view of Katrina entirely. "Shouldn't you be with your husband and children?"

He was surprised at the amount of venom in Thomas's voice. The boy was clearly trying to protect him. While touched at the sentiment, it was unnecessary, prompting him to clear his throat.

"He's right. You should be with your family."

Hurt flashed across her face, but was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

She'd never feel the hurt he did, not in all her life would she feel what he felt.

Looking to the sky, he avoided her gaze. "We're losing daylight. We need to be moving."

Thomas and Alfred nodded and began making their way deeper into the woods, but Katrina placed her hand on his arm, preventing him from following.

"You can catch up with them," she said lowly. "I need to speak with you."

"Katr-"

"Hey," Thomas cut in. "I don't appreciate what you're doing to my friend."

Katrina fixed the boy with a hard look and, before the two started arguing, he spoke in a low voice, chancing a glance at Alfred who was further up the road waiting for them.

"It's alright, Thomas." He nodded toward the Reverend. "Go with Alfred."

The boy, however, stood his ground. "It's not alright. She's using you."

Sighing, he placed his hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Katrina is simply a dear friend, Thomas."

"I saw you."

Frowning, he assumed the boy meant yesterday in the kitchen. "She was tending my wound, that's hardly reason to-"

"No," Thomas cut in heatedly. "Last night. I followed you to the graveyard because I was concerned. I stood off at a distance." His gaze flashed to Katrina, a deep anger in his brown eyes. "I saw the two of you."

The feeling of his blood draining from his face filled him. "Thomas-"

"You told me that I should wait. That I should wait to be with a girl that I made my wife. You said I should wait for love and yet you're carrying on with a married woman." Thomas shook his head. "You're a hypocrite, Ichabod."

Without another word, Thomas tuned on his heel and began moving further into the woods to join Alfred.

"I'm so sorry, Ichabod," she whispered. "This is what I was afraid would happen. Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

He looked back to her, his anger surfacing. "What do you want?"

She took a step back from him. "You left abruptly last night and... I wanted to make sure you were alright." A frown creased her features. "We might not see each other again for a long time and I-"

"Ok?" he asked incredulously. "Do you honestly think I'll ever be ok, Katrina? You've destroyed me."

Her face crumbled and he knew he should stop, but he was tired of worrying over everyone else's feelings but his own.

"You have taken everything that I had willingly given you; my heart, my body, my future. You selfishly ripped me apart and now you expect me to what, Katrina? Go on as if nothing has happened?"

She shook her head, reaching out toward him. "My love, please-"

"Don't!" he bit out, pointing a finger at her. "I never should have lain with you. It was a mistake that I'll never be able to take back."

Her breathing visibly picked up. "You're right, we shouldn't have done that last night, but-"

"Not last night." Her frown appeared again, so he decided to alleviate her confusion with no room for misinterpretation. "Ever. I never should have lain with you._ Ever_."

For a moment, she remained completely still. To him, it seemed as if she might not even be breathing.

"Please, don't say that," she finally whispered. "I know it's not fair and I have no right to ask this of you, but I'm doing it for my children. _Our_ children, Ichabod."

He stared at her a moment longer before shaking his head and turning to walk away, but then his anger got the better of him, prompting him to turn back to her.

"Do _your_ children a favor, Katrina. Tell them the truth before they discover it themselves, or else they'll grow to hate you just as intensely as I now do."

Her breath hitched and, for a moment, he felt he might have went too far, but before he allowed the thought to lead him to speaking again, he pushed the feeling down.

"I am finished with you. I don't want to ever see you again. Do you understand?"

"Please, don't do this."

He leaned close, grabbing her arm. "You ruined my life. I gave up my family, my home, at your word. I followed you into this war because I trusted you. I _trusted_ you, Katrina, and all you've done since then is torment me." He paused, doing his best not to break her arm with the force with which he was holding her. "I want nothing more to do with you, nor another moment spent in your presence to allow you to break me any further. Do you understand?"

Her eyes darted over his face as she nodded. "Yes, I won't-I won't hurt you anymore."

At her broken whisper, he released her.

"Have a lovely life, Mrs. von Brunt."

Turning his back to her, he began walking to catch up with Alfred and Thomas, who were still waiting up the road.

With a deep breath, he prayed with everything within him that he'd just put Sleepy Hollow behind him forever.

* * *

**Wow, upon re-reading this, it seems like some sort of mini-soap opera. Hope it was still enjoyable, despite its depressing nature. To make up for how horribly I'm treating poor Ichabod and Katrina here, I updated my other fic as well if you're reading it. It's much less dreary :)**


	22. Chapter 22

_1779(4 months later)_

"So, do you think we'll get an actual hot meal anytime in the near future?"

Chucking at his young friend's grumbling, he looked down at their small fire with a slight shake of his head. "Doubtful."

Thomas sighed, tossing the stick he'd been fiddling with into the flames. "I was afraid you'd say that."

He and Thomas had just returned from a mission of great importance: listening to Benjamin Franklin ramble on about how wonderful he is.

The man had about driven them both crazy in their two month's stay with him. He'd needed help with various tasks of some import and General Washington had insisted he be the one to carry them out to his great chagrin.

At present, they were encamped in the middle of the woods and the cold was nearly about to freeze him solid. The worst part of it all was that they were encamped a few miles outside of Sleepy Hollow. To say he was on edge at his proximity to the town would be quite the understatement as he'd purposed to himself he'd never enter that dreadful place again.

"Captain Crane?"

Looking up to the soldier addressing him, he stood with a nod. "Yes?"

"You're wanted in the General's tent."

"Again?" he asked confusedly. He'd just returned not an hour ago, his mission already being reported to the General.

The man gave a nod in the affirmative. "Yes, sir. He said it's a matter of some urgency."

Nodding to the man, he tossed his bread to Thomas. "Enjoy."

"Oh, thanks," Thomas said with a false happiness. "More stale bread. Just what I always wanted."

Chuckling, he made his way in the direction of the General's tent, contemplating what on earth could have happened in the past hour to require his presence again so soon.

Upon stepping between the flaps, he frowned at finding more than just the General present.

"Alfred."

The man turned to him and extended his hand. "Ichabod, wonderful to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Accepting Alfred's hand, he glanced between him and the General, taking note of their serious expressions.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his gaze settling on Alfred. "Has something happened?"

"Hessians have been spotted nearby."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he spun to find Katrina in the corner of the tent. He hadn't even noticed her as the cloak she had pulled around her was blending in with the tent's canvas. Her red hair was pulled up and her face bore an expression of complete formality.

As he stared at her, trying to gather his thoughts and formulate a response, he was saved when Alfred spoke again.

"You're not safe."

"I'm not?" he asked with a frown.

Katrina stepped closer to the men, her eyes dancing over the table's many maps. "If they discover that the Witness is encamped here, they will be relentless in their goal to kill you."

Realization upon where this was headed struck him and he was having none of it. "I'm not leaving."

"Ichabod," she began in an authoritative voice, her gaze coming to him with little to no emotion. "You have no choice. You're too important."

Infuriated at her attempt at ordering him about, he lost his patience and turned to face her fully. "I am no more important than any other man out there!"

She threw a hand toward the opening of the tent. "Every single man out there can be murdered tomorrow and it would not matter. Losing their lives will not affect the entire world's future, but your death would. It would condemn us all to darkness. Is that what you want?"

He was livid. How dare she suggest such a thing. "Of course, not! But I'm not going to run and hide in a cave while they suffer."

Her jaw clenched. "You will do as you are told."

Her voice was low with a dangerous edge to it and it filled him with absolute rage as he began to take a step toward her, but was stopped, however, as Alfred stepped between them.

"Now, now," Alfred began slowly. "Let us all calm down."

General Washington spoke, "Captain Crane."

He still had his eyes fixed on hers as they were currently in a battle of wills that he refused to let her win. The clear clench of her jaw signified her sense of superiority and he despised it, despised her constant need to control him. He wanted to strangle her.

"Captain Crane, you need to breathe."

Realizing that he had, in fact, been so angry that he wasn't breathing, he pushed Alfred's hand away and turned from her, sucking in some much needed air.

"I'm not leaving," he said with as much finality as he could muster.

The General stepped around the table, his hands behind his back. "We'll be encamped here for another day before we move south. You will leave with Alfred and Katrina."

Ready to protest, he held up a hand. "General-"

"That's an order, Crane."

Completely frustrated, he looked between all of them, gritting his teeth. "So that's it, then? You've all come together and decided my future for me? I have no say in my own life?"

Alfred spoke, "It's for the best. You being here isn't just a danger to yourself, but to every soul here. You'll be safe in Sleepy Hollow."

His eyes jumped up to Alfred's, then darted to Katrina's, who were planted firmly on his boots. He'd not considered where they would be taking him. "No," he whispered. "I'm not returning there."

Alfred glanced between them confused. "It's the safest place for you. I thought you would be happy to return there."

"I said, no," he bit out, losing the last ounce of control he possessed. "You can take me somewhere else, anywhere else. One of the members of the coven not in Sleepy Hollow can take me in."

Katrina moved to the other side of the table and crossed her arms. "Sleepy Hollow is where you are going. It has protections there."

He was shaking his head when Alfred continued, "Even if it didn't, the other members aren't strong enough to protect you. Katrina is the most powerful of us as well as our leader. You need to be near her."

"I don't want to be near her!"

Alfred's face showed shock at his outburst while Katrina barely even moved, her mask of formality once more firmly in place.

With a deep breath, he brought a hand to drag down his face in an attempt to get himself under control.

"General? Alfred?" They both turned to her, but he refused. "I would appreciate a moment alone with Captain Crane."

Feeling slightly faint, he leaned against the table as both men exited the tent, leaving him completely alone with her.

He still refused to look at her as she moved to stand beside him.

"I do not wish to force you to return," she began slowly. "I know you won't be happy there and that's the last thing I want, but you must be protected, Ichabod."

"Then, let someone else do it," he bit out coldly, his fingers digging into the table, attempting to pour all his emotions into it.

"If someone else were capable, please believe that I would."

She stepped closer to him, causing him to tense with a shake of his head.

"Don't touch me, Katrina. Please, just..."

He heard her take in a deep breath before she spoke, "Look at me."

"Why?"

"Because I need you to see me," came her whispered reply.

Confused at the tone of her voice, he finally glanced at her and felt his breath leave him.

"No," he whispered, praying he wasn't seeing what he thought he was.

She'd removed her cloak and stood before him in a simple dress, one that revealed her slightly swollen belly.

After a moment, she stepped close to him once more and this time he didn't move away, his shock keeping him firmly in place. Her eyes danced over him for a moment as she reached down, gently grabbing his hand and placing it against her belly.

"Is it-?"

He couldn't finish his question. His brain had absolutely halted all processing.

Hesitantly, she brought the hand not covering his up to his face and whispered, "Yes, we're having another baby."

He was completely entranced with it. The thought that just beneath his hands was his child. A piece of him. Inside Katrina.

"Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?"

Her hand on his face slid to his neck. "I know, Ichabod. I would never give him a child. I'm very careful. Besides, he and I hardly ever-"

His eyes met hers when she stopped to find them filled with untold misery. "Katrina?"

"When I found out, I-He thinks the child is his."

With a sigh, he allowed his eyes to fall closed, his guilt taking hold of him. "He doesn't deserve this, Katrina. He's arrogant and prideful, but he's not a bad man."

"You have no idea what kind of man he is," she bit out quickly. "You never did. I told you that I would never give that monster a child."

At her words, his eyes popped open. "Monster?"

Her gaze fell as she shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Katrina-"

"Would you prefer that this child was his?" she cut in with a frown.

His thoughts automatically ventured to the thought of the child beneath his hands being the product of Abraham and Katrina, and the act they would've had to have committed to create it. The result of such a thought made him positively ill.

"No," he whispered, pulling himself from her and backing away. "But this doesn't change anything." He gestured to her belly. "That baby will just become another thing I can't have, another thing you won't allow me to have. I'll know it no more than I know my other children."

She stepped toward him again, her eyes seemingly pleading. "You can get to know them. Abraham is constantly away on business. He's never home." She shrugged. "He prefers not being with us as we're not of great import to him. If you want to spend time with them, you can." With a heavy sigh, she whispered, "I want you to know them, Ichabod. You must know I want that more than anything."

He wanted to scream at her.

"Why are you doing this to me? Every time I think I can put you behind me, you appear. You're the one who said it was too dangerous for us to be near each other. You told me to leave, Katrina, and yet here you are telling me to come back." He shook his head, his mind and body feeling drained. "I don't want to feel this way anymore. I want to be finished with it. I cannot bear to go through this again."

Her eyes fell to her hands that were held to her belly, the belly holding their child, his child.

"I swear, I won't... bother you. You can spend time with William and Cassie and I won't interfere." She caught his eyes again, her orbs of green boring into his. "I'll keep my distance."

Feeling defeat begin to overcome him, he sighed, "It'll never work. We've proven that time and again."

With a nod, she whispered, "I have cemented it in my heart to never hurt you again. Please believe that I will do everything within my power to keep that promise."

Defeated, he brought a hand up to wipe over his face. "Alright," he whispered, before adding, "I do have one condition, though."


End file.
